Moonlight and Shadow
by Althelas
Summary: -on hiatus- Chapter 9 is up! WIP; Now that Elrond is possesed by Morchaintdur, what will happen next? Will the ancient evil finally fulfill his wrath? Take your time to rr. This is NO SLASH!
1. Default Chapter

Moonlight and Shadow  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, I only borrow them. They all belong to the wonderful Professor Tolkien.  
  
Raiting: I think PG will do it. Maybe it will go up in later chapters.*shrugs*  
  
Summary: Strange things are happening in Mirkwood and Rivendell. Legolas, Aragorn and the twins have to solve the puzzle before it is too late. This is NO SLASH!  
  
A/N: This is my first ever attempt to write, so please don't flame me.  
  
It is a work in progress, so everyone who reads only finished stories, stop here. ;-) I will try to update one chapter every week, but I can not promise a thing.  
  
RL is at the moment very busy.  
  
Thanks to my beta Mor, *hugs* You are great. Thanks also to all the guys on the Mellon group for your support.  
  
So here it is, enjoy!  
  
Moonlight and Shadow  
  
Chapter 1  
  
He woke up in total darkness, he felt slightly dizzy and disoriented.  
  
A thick blanket was wrapped around his form like a cocoon and it hindered his movements very effectively.  
  
His senses told him, that it should long be morning outside. But all he could see was darkness and all he could hear was silence.  
  
He could not hear the birds, singing their morning songs, no trees whispering greetings to the sun.  
  
*What has happened?*  
  
His hands were aching, but he did not know why, because he was not able to take a look at them.  
  
He barely could feel his legs, which were drawn up to his chest, his head resting on the knees. Slowly he lifted his head and tried to remove the blanket, moving his arm a little bit too fast he banged his elbow against a wall, which he didn't know that it exists. The pain shot up to his fingers and made his fingers tingle painful and left them numb. In a reflex he kicked out with his legs only to bang his toes against another wall.  
  
After a few events in his younger years he had developed a light kind of claustrophobia, it had not become better because of some other events in his live over the last centuries. But the most time, when he was in dark places, he was not alone, and he was able to control these feelings. There was always a friend at his side who had helped him through the attacks.  
  
But now in this very dark and obviously very small space, he was alone and his fear tried to overwhelm him and he began to hyperventilate. Cold sweat started to cover his face and his body, running in little rivulets down his forehead and his cheeks. Dark spots appeared on his tunic which clung to his chest and back.  
  
His breath came in ragged gasps, allowing only a little amount of air refill his lungs. Desperately he tried to get more air in his lungs, but he failed. It felt like drowning, but there was no water. He thrashed from side to side, banging his head and his limbs against the walls of his prison.  
  
A little part of his mind screamed at him.  
  
*Calm down!*  
  
*Breathe slowly!*  
  
He could not breathe! He could not calm down!  
  
*Breath you fool or you will die here!*  
  
Another voice appeared in his mind.  
  
The voice of a friend.  
  
*You can do it, you did it before.* *Remember what I told you. Don't think about caves. Think about the free open lands. Think about the woods of your homeland. Think about the places where we were hunting.  
  
DO YOU HEAR ME; YOU STUBBORN ELF?*  
  
"I... I...can... hear...you... Estel! Don't ... yell...at...me." He moaned between two gasps.  
  
*Fine, remember what I told you, what you should do when you cannot breathe?*  
  
He remembered.  
  
Lowering his head again against his knees like it was at the beginning; he tried to inhale through his nose, hold the air in his lungs and released it slowly through his parted lips. After a few attempts he finally managed to calm down his frenzy gasping for air and draw breath again more regular. His rapid heartbeat also slowed down and he willed his body to relax, as good as possible in this enclosed space.  
  
After a few minutes of only breathing, he tried again to free himself from this soft prison.  
  
He grasped for the fabric and hissed when a sharp pain radiated from his palms and fingers and he felt a warm liquid spreading down to his wrist. At that time he remembered that his hands had hurt when he awoke, but he could not remember that he had injured them.  
  
Mindful of the pain, he carefully removed the blanket from his head. But he could not remove it from his body, because it was wrapped around him, and he was sitting on it.  
  
He mused about the mystery, why he was here, wherever here was, wrapped in a thick velvet blanket, in the darkness. While he struggled to get the blanket out of under him. This was no easy task, with limited... very limited..., he thought when he again,...what was it..., the tenth time...he had lost count on it..., banged his shoulder against the wall. But finally he managed to free himself. He stacked the blanket down to his feet. And for the first time he was able to touch the walls of his Prison.  
  
He was confused.  
  
It seemed like he was sitting in a closet.  
  
Slowly he rose to his feet careful not to bang his head against the top side. He had to stand a little ducked, but not too much. He reached for the place, where he had found out that there was the door, he pushed slightly to open it, but it refused his attempt.  
  
It was locked.  
  
Tired of being captured in this dark place he added much more force than needed in his next push. He literally shoved his shoulders against the resisting, stubborn door.  
  
The door sprung open and the momentum of his move sent him stumbling down to the floor. Landing on his hands and knees, scrapping his leggings, scratching the skin of his knees and adding more pain to his already injured hands he sat there for a few seconds and caught his breath.  
  
He noticed that there was barely light in the room than it had been in the closet. But it was enough for his elven sight to take a look around.  
  
He was in a cellar. And by the look of it, every surface was covered with a thick layer of dust; it was one of the not so frequently used ones of his home.  
  
He wanted to rise to his feet and pushed himself upright with his hand, and hissed when his torn skin came in contact with the solid rock floor.  
  
Sitting back on his heels, for the first time he took a closer look at his hands. They where covered with bruises, welts and blisters, embedded in his palms were a lot of little wooden splinters. Blood was pouring from the wounds and dropped slowly down, the sleeves of his tunic were already soaked.  
  
He tried to remember when and where he had received these injuries.  
  
But as hard as he tried, he could not remember, and that frightened him.  
  
He never forgets a thing but at this moment he could not even remember how he ended down here in one of his fathers cellars.  
  
Chewing at his lip he tried to recall the last events he could remember.  
  
~Flashback~  
  
He arrived at home after a long and tiresome patrol at the western borders of Mirkwood.  
  
Tired to his bones, he handed his horse to the stable hands, and left the courtyard straight to the palace.  
  
His yearning for a soft cosy bed was so great; he did not even notice that his father was awaiting him on top of the stairs until he banged into him. Startled he tumbled back a step and nearly toppled over the stair back down, but his father gripped the front of his tunic and steadied him.  
  
'Huh, wait young one. Be careful, you don't want to hurt yourself, or want you?'  
  
Legolas raised his head and was greeted by the face of his father who could barley hide his mirth behind a stern look.  
  
'I'm sorry, ada. I did not see you.'  
  
'A fine warrior you are, running sleeping through the world.'  
  
'Huh...What?' Legolas replied a little sheepish.  
  
No longer able to control his joy, a laughing Thranduil hugged his son, and kept him close to his chest in a nearly crushing embrace.  
  
'Welcome home, ion nin, I missed you.' He whispered into the golden hair of his only son and heir.  
  
Brushing lovingly through the disarranged tresses he could feel the fatigue radiating from his sons body.  
  
'Tell me, how long did you not sleep?' he asked.  
  
'I don't know, maybe two or three weeks, I lost count of it a few days ago.' Came the muffled answer interrupted by a yawn.  
  
Thranduil carefully shoved his son a little away from him and hold him on an arms length and took a closer look at him.  
  
Legolas was barely able to hold his eyes open, and dark circles had formed under them, he swayed a little on his feet and eventually, by the looks of it, he would fall down and sleep right here on the stairs if Thranduil would release his grip.  
  
Thranduil felt very sorry, for what he had to do now to his beloved son, but it was necessary.  
  
Sighing, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for his next words.  
  
'Ion nin, I'm so sorry, but you can not go to sleep now. I need you at my table in a few hours. We have guests here from the north, and they asked to meet you too.'  
  
Forcing his foggy mind to work, Legolas look at his father and tried to figure out what he just had heard.  
  
'What? Ada, I'm so tired, I could sleep for a month, and you want me to sit at the table and entertain some guests of yours? You can't be serious. Most likely I will fall over in my plate and sleep with my face in the meal.'  
  
'Ion nin....'  
  
'No ada, I need to sleep. I was on patrol now for over six month, we had to battle with spiders, orcs, and ......' his voice trailed of.  
  
'I know, Legolas ...I know..., but...' Thranduil tried to sooth his agitated son.  
  
'No father, you don't know....' Legolas interrupted.  
  
'Enough stop this before you say something you regret afterwards.' Thranduil raised his voice, but only a little, he knew that his son was tired and needed his rest. But he was also the prince of this realm and had duties to fulfil, beyond the duties of a warrior and a guard of his people. He would stuck his son in his bed personally and lock his door so that he could have his much needed rest but this particular guests would not want to wait much longer. 'I would not ask this of you, but these guests came a long way, and they want only to see you. They asked especially for you. I don't know why, I tried to get an answer out of them, but they refused to answer any question concerning this request. They only say, that they have a message for you... and only you.' Startled Legolas took a deep breath and straightened himself. 'Who are this people?' He asked. 'First, come in, we better talk inside with a glass of wine.' Taking his son by one arm, Thranduil led him in the palace Slowly walking side by side in tensed silence they reached the kings study.  
  
Legolas slumped down in one of the plush seats in front of his father's desk, while Thranduil poured wine in two goblets. Reaching one over to his son, he sat down on a seat next to Legolas and started to tell the story of the strange people who arrived a few days ago.  
  
'It was 4 days ago, when one of the guards reported a group of men travelling down from the north. You know, that there are only a few settlement up there, and those people do not wander through our forests. So, we watched them and tried to figure out, what business could bring them down here. We were very surprised, when we realized that they headed straight towards the palace. At this time I sent a few warriors to guard them here. When they reached the palace, they were worn out, exhausted, tired and frightened. The never ever had dealt with elves, they only know our people from tales of old, contorted over the centuries. You know the ones in which elves eat little children.' Thranduil paused and glanced sideways at his son, waiting for a reaction to this last statement.  
  
'What has this all to do with me?' Legolas asked, not showing the reaction his father had waited. Not even the tiniest little smile graced his lips.  
  
Sighing Thranduil continued his story.  
  
'I will tell you. Where have we been? Ah yes, when they arrived they were malnourished, thirsty and their clothes...well lets say they were a *little* torn. First we fed them, took them to some rooms so they could have a little rest and waited. After a few hours, they were able to get up and I met them in the throne room. They looked really frightened maybe they waited for me to jump down the dais and eat them alive.' Thranduil chuckled.  
  
Looking sideways again he noticed no reaction from his son again.  
  
Composing himself he returned again to the story.  
  
'After we exchanged greetings they asked me about you. I don't know how they know you, but they told me, that it was very important to meet you, because they have a message to deliver. I told them, that you are on a patrol and it could last a few days or maybe weeks before you will return.  
  
They said that is does not matter how long they have to wait, but if I give them my permission they wanted to wait. And that's what they are doing the last days. They wait, they don't want to tell me or anybody else, where they exactly came from nor want the talk about the message.  
  
If you had not arrived like you did, I would have sent a messenger to bring you back.'  
  
There was a long silence after Thranduil had finished this tale only interrupted by the crackle of the flames in the fireplace. Legolas sat in his chair, absently playing with the goblet, watching the flames consuming the wood.  
  
'Ion nin? Did you hear what I told you?'  
  
Turning to his father, Legolas took a sip from his wine, cocked his head slightly to the side and looked thoughtfully at his father.  
  
'Yes, I heard you, but I can not understand. Maybe I'm too tired; maybe I'm only too stupid to understand. What would men who never had dealings with elves, want from me? They don't know me, they don't know you.'  
  
'I do not understand either, my son, but we will find out, when you meet them in the evening. Why don't you take a bath, rest a little and join us at dinner?'  
  
Rising to his feet, Legolas put the glass down on his father's desk and turned around to face to his father.  
  
'All right ada, you made me curious, I will be there.'  
  
~ End Flashback~  
  
Returning back to his present Legolas sighed. That memory did not help much, but it was a start.  
  
Looking around he searched for a piece of fabric, which would be useful as a bandage for his torn hands. Finding something that looked like it should have been used as a tablecloth he ripped of a few stripes and wrapped them carefully over both of his hands.  
  
After finishing this task, he finally rose to his feet and started towards the door.  
  
What he noticed there took away his breath for a moment.  
  
The whole entrance was barricaded with all what could be moved in this room. The pile of barrels, boxes and even shelves nearly reached the ceiling of the cellar.  
  
*Could it be?* He thought.  
  
*It had to.*  
  
He suddenly felt his stomach twisting at the pure thought of it.  
  
*What had happened that he barricaded himself in one of the cellars and hid in a closet, cowering under a blanket, like a frightened child?*  
  
He had no answer, and he started shaking.  
  
TBC 


	2. Chapter 2

The promised update.  
  
And two chapters at once.  
  
A/N: Thank you for your reviews, *hugs*  
  
Namárië an Lalaith: Thank you for your offer, I will keep it in mind.  
  
Disc.: Same as in chapter one. Unfortunately *sigh*  
  
Enjoy!  
  
Chapter 2  
  
He did not know how long he stood there only looking at the barricaded door.  
  
Shaking and shivering, while horrible images of what could have had happened swirling through his mind. He saw pictures of his father, twisted in pain, pictures of his friends fighting against an unknown enemy and failing. He saw them all die. In his imagination the worst case scenario took place. Not knowing what had led him to this place drove him nearly crazy.  
  
Shaking his head to get rid of this disturbing pictures and feelings, Legolas took a few deep breaths and started to remove all the items which stood between him and his freedom.  
  
After a look at the pile of items he knew he had to climb up a little to remove the boxes on top of it.  
  
Carefully placing his feet at the prominent edges of the lower levels he managed to reach up to the box on top of it. Gripping it, at the moment forgetting his hands, he was remembered a moment later, when the pain, which had been reduced to a dull ache, returned with full force, he eased his grip and almost toppled backward, at the last moment he regained his balance again. Resting his head against the wood in front of him, he breathed deeply and forced the pain back, it was still there, but bearable. For the second time he gripped the box, and throw it down on the floor, follow shortly after by one of the barrels. The banging and shattering of the wood on the floor echoed back from the stone walls and became very loud, nearly deafening. The raising dust made his work not easier, the dirt mixed with the sweat on his face covered his features like a mask, his clothes fared not much better. The dust and dirt was everywhere; it even felt like it was crawling under his skin He suppressed the desire to scratch at his arms and his chest and continued his task.  
  
He literally dug through the wooden hill he had constructed.  
  
Finally he was able to open the door, and peeked carefully outside.  
  
He saw nothing unusual. Slowly placing one foot in front of the other he left the room, which was his refuge for the last hours. Had it been hours? Maybe, he did not know.  
  
But he wanted to know.  
  
He needed to know.  
  
Slowly he made his way through the cellars always on guard, his senses reaching out for uncommon sounds or smells, but there was nothing.  
  
He walked upwards the stony stairs carved ages ago in the deep hills of his homeland, never meeting one soul.  
  
Reaching the more upper levels, first signs of live showed up. A burning torch, on the side of the corridor, lighting the path in front of him, an open door leading to one of the storage rooms holding some barrels of wine.  
  
A few doors down the way the saw a ray of light shining through the gap between the door and the floor, and heard voices behind it.  
  
He knew the voices; they belonged to some of the servants of his father.  
  
They didn't sound frightened, on the contrary, they where laughing. Maybe one told the other a joke or a funny story from the kitchens, he did not know, and he did not care.  
  
He was more confused than ever in the last time, since he had woke up in this room three levels down from here.  
  
At this point of his *journey* he did not want to meet other people, the only one he wanted to see was his father, he had to assure himself that his father was alive and well.  
  
He tip toed down the corridor until he was out of the earshot of the elves in that room. Releasing a breath, he was not aware that he had hold it, he made his way further upwards until he reached the entrance to the main hall.  
  
The whole palace was quiet, the rays of the sun gracing the whole space with the light of a new day. It was earlier than he had expected. The sun had only started her way through the sky.  
  
Walking slowly up the stairs to the wing of the palace which holds the rooms of his father and his own, he listened to the different sounds of the forest, which he could hear clearly know, and which he had missed so, deep down in the cellars.  
  
It eased his heart that not all had vanished since he had gone down into the depths of his home.  
  
But the longer he walked the more puzzled he became. All seemed to be in order, there was no hint of a threat or a past fight ... there was nothing that could have told him what had happened to him.  
  
When he reached the top of the stair, he had made the decision that he first had to think about the last day's event, before he woke up his father.  
  
He was a warrior, no little child that would run to his father when it had imagined that there is a Balrog under its bed.  
  
He could handle that.  
  
It would be useless to scare his father without knowing something more.  
  
There had to be a reason why he had ended up the way he did, and he did not think that his father would know something.  
  
If his father had known something, he had done all within his powers to protect his son.  
  
So, that led to the conclusion, that his father knew nothing.  
  
He had to find out alone what had happened.  
  
But first of all he had to know that his father was well.  
  
With a sigh he drove the back of his hand over his face, and continued his way down the hallway leading to his fathers rooms.  
  
Stopping in front of the massive doors that led to the king's bedroom he pressed his ear against it, and listened to any sound that would come from the inside.  
  
All he could hear was deep breaths sometimes interrupted by light snores. The sound of the snores brought a broad grin on his face; his father always denied that he was snoring. But he had always known that he did not imagine the strange sounds that emerged from his father's room, especially when he had a little too much wine at one of his many feasts.  
  
It seemed that all was perfectly normal, except that one particular point that he could not remember how he had get down in the cellars this morning. The familiar sounds lifted his spirit and much more light-hearted than before he pushed himself of the door and turned left to reach his own rooms.  
  
By passing one of the windows near the door of his fathers bedroom, he looked out into the courtyard and saw a patrol preparing for one of there daily tasks. There was no rush, no urgent calls; everything looked like it always had.  
  
From the corner of his eyes he saw his own reflection in the window.  
  
He took a closer look at his image.  
  
He was a mess.  
  
His hair disarranged, covered with dust and spider webs, in a way that it looked grey, His face the same colour, only interrupted by some smears of blood that could have only came from his hands when he had tried to wipe away the sweat.  
  
His tunic dirty and torn, bloody bandages wrapped around his hand.  
  
He chuckled lightly when he a thought crossed his mind. A thought of his best friend Estel, he always teased the young human with the words 'filthy human'  
  
If Estel could see him right now, the young man would laugh until he had no breath left and probably would never live out to point it at him.  
  
He was so glad that at this moment Estel was back at home in Imladris and never had the chance to see him like this in his own house.  
  
Taking the last steps he finally reached his rooms. Looking around he saw that his bed was used, the blankets disarranged, so it was obvious that he had started the night in his own bed. His bow, the quiver and his knifes were lying at the same points he had dropped them yesterday.  
  
He went to the bath, removed his clothes and washed away the dirt and grime.  
  
Afterwards he sat on his bed and tried to remove the splinters which were still embedded in his palms. It was a tiresome and painful task, but at the end he managed to remove the most of them. When he had finished bandaging his hands again, he changed in a new light blue tunic, and brushed his still wet hair.  
  
While brushing his hair, the whole tension fell of him and he felt a little tired.  
  
Leaning back into the soft cushions, he relaxed and let his mind flow back to the events that took place the last evening.  
  
~Flashback~  
  
Leaving his father's study, he more stumbled than walked the familiar way down to his own rooms. It was pure luck that he did reach the door without mishap, like running into a servant or tripping over the edge of a carpet.  
  
Tired and lost in thoughts about what he just had heard, he walked in and collapsed on his bed.  
  
Oh...how he wanted to sleep.  
  
He could not recall a lot of times in his life when he had been so tired.  
  
Knowing that he would not be able to wake up for the next days when he allowed himself to the alluring depths of sleep, Legolas unwillingly left the soft, inviting embrace of his bed. The servants had prepared a bath for him and with a sigh of relief he lowered himself into the warm waters of the bath tube.  
  
The warmth invaded his tense and exhausted muscles and he finally relaxed. After half an hour he felt his eyelids drop and he forced himself upright. It was time to leave, before he drowned himself while sleeping.  
  
Leaving the bath he changed in one of his formal court robes he had to wear on official occasions.  
  
He hated these stiff and long tunics, the high collar felt like it wants to strangle him. He would much prefer his favourites but he knew it would upset his fathers, if he should show up in his usual green tunic and the darker leggings.  
  
Smoothing the silver tunic with his hands, he took a deep breath and left his room towards the dining hall.  
  
Arriving at the entrance of the great hall he could hear that the most guests had already arrived, soft murmurs of the people gathered at the long tables and the sweet sounds of the music performed by the minstrels to entertain the guests, greeted his ear.  
  
Squaring his shoulders and holding his head high Legolas entered and made his way down to the king's table in the centre of the hall.  
  
Slowly passing the other guests he took his time to look for the foreign humans.  
  
He found them at his fathers table; there were four of them, deep in conversation with each other.  
  
They seemed not to notice their surroundings.  
  
They looked not so much different to other humans he had met before.  
  
Dark unruly hair went down to their shoulders; thick beards covered most of their faces. They seemed not to be very tall, but sturdy; if they would have been shorter they would have looked like dwarfs.  
  
But they were obvious human.  
  
One of the men looked up and his gaze met the prince.  
  
The man's eyes went wide and by jumping on his feet he nudged the one companion who was sitting beside him.  
  
Turning his head, the second also saw Legolas approaching. Jumping up like his comrade, they both managed to topple their chairs, which crashed down on the floor with a loud bang.  
  
The two on the other side followed a split second later.  
  
Silence felt over the room, when all talk and a little later the minstrels stopped.  
  
The humans rushed towards him in a manner that could have been interpreted as an attack. Not few elves rose to their feet either, hand gripping the tilts of daggers, ready to defend their prince.  
  
A few steps away from Legolas the humans stooped dead in track and all four of them dropped down on their knees bowing their heads so low that their foreheads touched the floor.  
  
Legolas like the other elves stood frozen and speechless. None of them had ever in his whole life witnessed such submissiveness from humans. Murmurs rose from the gathered elves, whispers made their way through the whole hall. Nobody knew what they should think of the spectacle. Legolas cleared his throat and addressed the crouching humans.  
  
'Would you please rise, there is no need for such behaviour.'  
  
'You are the Golden One!' came the barely audible answer. 'That is all what we need'  
  
Flabbergasted Legolas had no idea what he should do now.  
  
Doing the only thing that was appropriate at the moment he knelt in front of the men.  
  
Touching the first one lightly on the shoulder he tried to make a little joke to ease the tension.  
  
'If you don't want to rise we have to eat our dinner on the floor.'  
  
This was rewarded by four heads rising up from the floor.  
  
'So if you don't mind I would prefer a seat at the table.' Legolas said smiling at them. The man nodded, waved his comrades to follow and rose to his feet.  
  
'I'm sorry Golden One. We did not mean to insult you. This is the way of our people to greet higher beings.'  
  
'There is no need to apologize, why don't we start anew without formalities. Please call me by my name, I'm Legolas.' A few second later he added 'would you be so kind and give me your name?'  
  
'I'm sorry Gold....Lord Legolas... I forgot my manners. My name is Roac; the one on my right side is Kazm.' Waving to the men behind him Roac introduced them as Aibon and Giall.  
  
Leading them back to the table Legolas glanced towards his father who greeted him with a smile and a barely visible nod. Legolas smiled back while he invited the humans to take their seats again.  
  
He took his seat beside his father, bending towards Thranduil he whispered only audible for elven ears. 'Why did you not tell me how they would greet me? 'I wanted to see your face when they greet you. And I have to tell you, the sight was worth waiting.' Thranduil whispered back, hiding a wide grin behind his hand.  
  
Legolas turned his attention back to the humans who had watched the exchange with wide eyes.  
  
'Where do you come from, my father told me that you were very exhausted when you arrived in our lands.'  
  
'We are from the Forodwaith beyond the Grey Mountains; we live in a little village near the ocean.' Roac answered, not able to meet Legolas eyes. Looking down on his plate he continued. 'We barely leave our confined realms. It is a hard and dangerous live up there in the north, you know. The constant cold, the wild hunters, like the great white bears who often wander down from the northern waste when winter arrives. We have only limited time in year to sow and harvest the crop. We are mostly hunters, we trade with other villages and sometimes we have dealings With dwarfs, should they come near our hunting camps.  
  
We would not have come here, because we had to leave behind our families alone with the approaching winter, but our shaman called me one day and ordered me to leave to bring you the message. He said the time had come.'  
  
'What message could your shaman have for me, he does not know me, and I do not know him either. I never had been up this far north.'  
  
Kazm spoke up for the first time.  
  
'We do not know either. We are only the messengers; we do not know what the shaman had seen in his visions.'  
  
'A vision?' Thranduil rose one of his eyebrows.  
  
'Yes, he told us that he had a vision concerning the Golden One and some other things we do not understand.'  
  
'So, and what says this message?' Legolas curiosity got the best of him.  
  
Roac cleared his throat, and looked in the faces of his fellows, the three of them glanced back and all of them gave their approval with a slight nod of their heads.  
  
'Well your shaman said:  
  
*Tell him...tell the Golden One: Gold and green, silver and black and the two that are one, you all have to save and protect the power of the air! The power is tainted and it will not withstand much longer than it already had.*'  
  
TBC 


	3. Chapter 3

Moonlight and Shadow  
  
Disclaimer: as usual, not mine.  
  
A/N: If you have any suggestions, feel free to use the review button. ^__^  
  
Enjoy!  
  
Chapter 3  
  
‚THE MOON!!' with a shout Estel shot upright.  
  
His eyes snapped open, and he slumped back in his chair.  
  
A moment later the door banged open and two identical elves still in their night clothes jumped in.  
  
'What....' Started the first  
  
'...happened?' the second finished the question  
  
Scanning the room with a quick glance and sensing no danger, the twins relaxed. Seeing their younger brother sitting peaceful in his chair behind the desk, his head leaning at the back of the seat was not what they had expected.  
  
They had heard the shout in their adjacent room, they had thought that Estel probably had a nightmare.  
  
'Estel don't you think it is a little bit to early to wake up everybody?' teased Elladan.  
  
Gaining no answer the twins made their way towards the desk, their feet shuffling through piles of parchments which covered the entire floor.  
  
'What's that?' a concerned Elrohir bent down to retrieve a few of the pieces.  
  
Turning them over he saw pictures, pictures of the moon to be exactly, in its different forms.  
  
Elladan glimpsed over his brothers shoulders and also picked up some of the paintings.  
  
Each and every picture showed the moon. One detail caught his eyes, All the different types of moons had one thing in common.  
  
The colour, they all were red, red like blood.  
  
Confused both turned and looked at their brother who had not moved nor had he made a sound since they had entered the room.  
  
He sat behind his desk, palms flat on the parchments that covered the tabletop., eyes downcast.  
  
They heard a dripping sound and noticed that it came from the desk.  
  
'Estel?!' shouted Elladan  
  
No reaction.  
  
'Estel what in Erus name have you done here?'  
  
Coming closer Elrohir glimpsed the hilt of a dagger hidden under the stock of parchments on the left side of the desk.  
  
He frowned and took a closer look. The hilt was covered with dried blood.  
  
Meanwhile Elladan had reached the chair and touched Aragorn lightly at the shoulder.  
  
'Estel, are you sleeping? You have a nice... ESTEL!' he burst out when Estel slumped down in his chair like a puppet cut of its threads.  
  
'Ro, come and help me!'  
  
Elrohir jumped out of his thoughts and rushed to his brothers' side.  
  
Elladan had already lifted Estel's body out of the chair and for the first time, both of them noticed the blood that covered the sleeves of Aragorns tunic and the wide open, glazed over eyes. Gasping Elrohir touched Estel's neck to search for a pulse, relieved to find a slow but steady beat he touched the forehead, looking if there was a fever. It felt cool to the touch.  
  
Elrohir carefully scooped back the sleeves and revealed forearms covered with many cuts, some deeper than others, some of them older ones, the blood had already clotted and closed the wounds, but none of the cuts were older than a few hours.  
  
'Oh Eru what had happened here?' He muttered under his breath. 'I go and fetch ada, he needs to know and we need his help.' He run out of the room an down the hallway to the rooms of their father.  
  
Elladan shifted the weight of his brother and carried him to the large bed at the other end of the room.  
  
Putting his brother down on the covers he muttered to himself.' What have you done, young one, what have you done.'  
  
Taking a towel from a sideboard and a bowl of water from the bathroom he returned to the bed, seeing all the pictures of the moon coloured with the blood of his brother he felt bile rising up his throat, swallowing hard he began to clean up the various cuts. With one hand he brushed aside a few dark looks for the face oh his little brother. The sight of the wide open unseeing eyes disturbed him to no end.  
  
He was used to see elves sleeping with their eyes open but Estel was human, he was not meant to sleep with open eyes. Had there not been the slow rise and fall of the chest one could have thought the young man was dead.  
  
Constantly whispering soothing words in elvish he tried to stem the constant blood flow.  
  
Tears welt up in his eyes when he thought that his brother hade done this all to his own body.  
  
He heard running feet approaching the room and knew that their father was on his way.  
  
'Estel,' he whispered. 'Ada is here, do you hear me, all will be well.'  
  
Bursting into the room the Lord of Imladris literally jumped to the side of his son. Shocked by the sight of the open eyes he frantically searched for a pulse and sighed when he found the steady beat.  
  
'Elrohir would you please bring me my herbs and Elladan, we need some more fresh water, please.' Elrond ordered.  
  
The twins immediately left for their tasks, while Elrond sat beside his foster son. Touching the humans chest and forehead he reached out with his healing powers, searching for any sign of poison or sickness, he found nothing. When the twins returned, all three focused there attention on the task of cleaning and wrapping the cuts.  
  
Each twin grabbed one arm and pressed a fresh towel against the still bleeding cuts while their father prepared a paste of various herbs. When Elrond had finished the mixture he went over to Elrohir's side and spread it all over the cuts. Elrohir noticed the trembling hands of his father and shot a questioning glance across the bed. Elladan only shook his head, he had noticed the tremor, too, but this was not the time for questions. Besides, his hands trembled slightly, too.  
  
Elrond had finished bandaging the first arm and laid it gently down in the rangers chest. Picking up the bowl the went over to his eldest and repeated his work on the other arm.  
  
The twins watched in silence.  
  
None of them had spoken since Elrond had ordered them to their tasks and words were not needed now.  
  
They were shocked, never before had something like that happened .  
  
Yes, it was usual, that Aragorn would arrive at home with cuts and bruises, sometimes with broken bones or sick.  
  
But nobody had ever expected that the ranger would wound himself.  
  
Noticing that their father had finished his work, both of them grabbed for a chair and sat down on the bedside..  
  
Slumping down both watched Elrond as he crushed a few leaves of athelas in a bowl with warm water. The sweet scent of the herb took away their tension and they watched whether the scent had any effect on Estel. Elrond stood beside his foster son brushing lightly over his brow. 'Ion nin, what trouble is seeking you?' Bending down, he kissed his son on the head.  
  
'Do not leave us, you know how much you are needed.' He whispered.  
  
'Ada, do you have a clue what took place here last night?' Elladans question broke the silence.  
  
'I don't know but I wish I would. We will have to wait until Estel can tell us what he had done last night.' 'Look around, Ada, 'Elladan called out. ' look around and you know what he had done. He painted all these pictures...with his blood....and...' his voice trailed off and a sob escaped his lips. 'look at him...his eyes are open...he looks like he is dead....what if he is fading..'  
  
Elrond knelt down in front of his eldest son and embraced him. 'hush, ion nin, he will not fade. He will wake up and then we will find a solution for this riddle. It will be all right.' Rocking his son back and forth Elrond constantly whispered comforting words in his ear.  
  
Elrohir joined in the embrace, wrapping his arms around both, his father and his brother. The family huddled together and for a few moments they took strength from their love for each other and they remained in silence.  
  
A little later Elladan was the first who broke the embrace. Sniffing he whipped away the last tears.  
  
He forced his face into a lopsided grin.  
  
'What do you think, should we clean up this mess, while we wait? Or let we do Estel the work when he is up again?'  
  
'I need something to do, and we do not have to leave Estel alone, so let us clean up this ...' waving a hand towards the littered floor, Elrohir replied.  
  
Elrond rose to his feet. 'If you both stay here, I will have a look in the library, maybe there is something that could explain a few things. Send for me, should there be a change.' With a last thoughtful look at his foster son Elrond left the bedroom.  
  
The twins started to collect all the pictures that littered the floor and piled them up beside and on top of the desk.  
  
'Look at all these paintings. There are so many of them. He must have worked the whole night.' Elrohir mussed after he had deposited another pile of parchments.  
  
'What madness drove him to injure himself for colouring paintings?'  
  
'This one is without colour, see? Elladan said, lifting up one of the pictures. He dug through the piles, 'Look these ones too.'  
  
'So he started painting some times at night and suddenly he made the decision to paint with blood? That does not make any sense for me.'  
  
'It makes no sense for me too, brother.' Elrohir replied.  
  
Kneeling on the floor Elladan glanced back over his shoulders back to the bed where the ranger laid, oblivious to the world, staring with unseeing eyes up to the ceiling.  
  
Turning back to his brother Elladan sighed.  
  
'I hope he can tell us what happened to him.'  
  
Elrohir moved closer and hugged his twin tightly.  
  
'He will be well and up in a short time, you will see, we will have to tie him down on the bed until he is fully healed, you know him.'  
  
A sudden commotion from the bed drove them apart and up on their feet.  
  
Aragorns body began to shake and spasms shook his whole frame.  
  
His fists clenched and he dug his nails into his palms.  
  
The twins rushed to his side, Elladan grabbed the shoulders while Elrohir pinned down the rangers legs with his weight.  
  
Aragorns body arched upward and after a few seconds he went limp. His head lolled sideways on the pillow black hair falling over his face.  
  
Elladan released his grip and pressed his forefinger against his brother's neck, searching for a pulse.  
  
The beat was steady like it hade been before.  
  
'If you want to wake me up by tossing me into the river, I must tell you that you are too late.'  
  
The teasing words caught the twins totally unaware and they nearly jumped out of their skin.  
  
'What in Mordor.... Elrohir blurred out, realising his hold of the rangers legs.  
  
The twins looked incredulous down.  
  
Their gazes met by the sparkling sailver eyes of Estel.  
  
'Thank's the Valar, you'r awake.' Elladan shouted  
  
'Why should I not be awake? Am I supposed to sleep while you can do with me what you want, hm, like dyeing my hair green and braiding it with pink ribbons?'  
  
Estel tried to push himself upright, and felt back in his cussions when the effort shot hot pain through his arms.  
  
Curious he looked at his forearms and noticed the bandages that covered them from the wrist to the ellbow.  
  
'What is this?' he asked, showing his arms to his brothers.  
  
'Dan, Ro, could you please explain this to me!' Is this one of your pranks? Yes? Ok, then I have to tell you, it is not funny. It hurts, and I hope for your sake, when I take of this bandages that there will be no tattoos on my arms.'  
  
The speechless twins changed a concerned glanze. 'I go and fetch ada, he surely wants to know that Estel is awake.' Patting Aragorn's hand gently Elladan left for the study.  
  
'Ro, why call ada? Why does he have to know that I'm awake? What had happened?' Touching his head Aragorn searched for a bandage that maybe was wrapped around his head. He could feel none, and he let his hand fall back on the coverlet. He obviously suffered of a concussion, because he had lost a part of his memory so it seemed to him, but there was no evidence for this diagnosis, no blood, no headache, nothing.  
  
Sitting down beside his little brother Elrohir gripped his hands.  
  
'Estel, can you explain what happened here last night? Do you remember?'  
  
'Remember what? Came the bemused counter question.  
  
'What you did last night, my son!' the deep voice of Elrond answered instead of Elrohir.  
  
The elf lord had appeared in the doorframe unnoticed, carrying a tray which held a few plates and a cup of steaming tea, Elladan short on his heels.  
  
'What *I* did last night?' Ada you are frightening me. Please tell me what is *that* all supposed to mean?' Aragorn lifted his arms. 'Why am I injured?' 'What happened to me?' Wide fearful silver eyes locked with the deep brown ones of his father begging for an answer.  
  
'I hoped you could tell us.' Elrond came close to the bed, depositing the tray on the bedside table.  
  
'You really don't remember?' Elladan threw in a deep frown marred his features.  
  
He walked over to the desk, took up a few of the paintings and waged them in front of his brother's eyes.  
  
'You don't remember painting all these ...things?  
  
'YOU DON'T REMEMBER CUTTING YOURSELF TO COLOUR THE PICTURES WITH YOUR OWN BLOOD?'  
  
Elladan had lost control over his emotions and yelled at his brother, sick with sorrow.  
  
Taking a deep breath to calm himself he looked down to Aragorn, noticed the tear filled eyes, ready to spill over, and the trembling lower lip of the young man, he regretted his outburst immediately. Collapsing beside the young one, he hugged him closely, putting his chin on top of Estel's head, stroking gently the trembling back.  
  
'I'm sorry little one. I did not want to yell at you.... I'm sorry... please forgive me.' He begged, pressing the humans head closer to his chest.  
  
Elrohir watched for a few heartbeats and then he joined in the embrace, wrapping his arms around both of his brothers. No words were spoken and no words were needed. The bond they shared was so deep, they do not have to talk to show each other how they feel.  
  
Elrond looked at his family, he could understand Elladan, he really could, he had been only a blink of an eye away from loosing his calmness too.  
  
Moving to join his sons he stopped mid steps when he felt something touching his awareness. He knew the feeling, it hade come in sporadic terms since the last years.  
  
He had never found out what it was...this had disturbed him greatly... but he never abandoned the task to try to grab that presence, he tried again ...and failed again, like so many times before.  
  
Then the presence left him, like it had done before only leaving a slightly feeling of unease tingling at the brinks of his mind.  
  
Releasing the breath, he was not aware that he had hold it, he closed his eyes to collect himself, opened them again and walked up to the bed where his sons huddled together.  
  
Aragorns sobs had quieted and feeling his father's approach, he lifted his head and turned red rimmed eyes towards his father, meeting his gaze.  
  
'Why can I not remember, ada? I cut myself and I can not remember....am I going insane?' he whispered.  
  
Elrond cupped the face of his youngest between both hands lightly brushing away the last tears on his son's cheeks with his thumbs.  
  
'We will find out, ion nin, we will find out, I promise.'  
  
He hugged the young human for the first time this day.  
  
'Would you like to eat something? We prepared a few things, and you need your strength.'  
  
'I'm not hungry ada.' Aragorn answered not feeling able to eat something, but his traitorous stomach chooses to betray him with a clearly audible growl.  
  
Elrond and the twins burst out with laughter, easing the tension that still lingered in the room.  
  
Standing up in a rustling of robes Elrond retrieved the tray from its place on the bedside table and placed it beside Aragorn, the twins had already slipped to the end of the bed watching the young ranger when he eyed suspiciously the cup of tea on the tray. Sniffing he took in the scent of the liquid.  
  
Perking up an eyebrow he addressed Elrond.  
  
'I will not drink *this*.'  
  
'See ada, I told you he will notice.' Elladan laughed out.  
  
Elrond shot him *the look* eyebrows nearly touching the line of his hair.  
  
'I knew he would notice, he is a smart guy.'  
  
Looking back at Aragorn he saw that the man had started to devour the cheese and the fruits on the plates, he literally shovelled the food into his mouth, like he had not eaten the last days.  
  
Only a few minutes later all plates were empty and Aragorn settled back into the cushions with a sigh.  
  
'What?' he asked, perceiving the surprised looks on the faces of the twins and his father.  
  
'I never saw someone finishing food in that rate. ' Elrohir muttered dryly.  
  
'The only thing left is the tea. ' Elladan teased.  
  
'I will *not* drink this.'  
  
'You know that you need it, it will take away the pain...no...don't tell me that you are fine...I know that your wounds pain you.' Elrond remarked.  
  
'But I am fine, really, it only hurts a little, there is no need for this drink.' Aragorn pouted, fully aware that he would not escape the drug, but he had to try.  
  
'You sound and behave like a child and you want to tell us that you are an adult?' Elladan taunted, knowing that Aragorn could not stand to be called a child. 'You are a ranger, do not tell me, that you are afraid of a cup of tea, I can not wait to tell Halbarad when we meet again.' Elrohir added grinning.  
  
'I am no child.' Grabbing the cup fiercely Aragorn gulped down the liquid with one draught. Shuddering he put back the empty cup, sinking back into his cushions again. 'It makes no difference how often I have to drink this foul thing, it will always taste like it is made by orcs, no offence meant, ada, but you should really decide to put honey in it.' Yawning Aragorn huddled deeper into his bed.  
  
'One day...one day...I....promise, I...will force....' His voice trailed of and his eyelids dropped, sound asleep shortly after.  
  
Elladan rose graceful from his place and took up the tray, while their father covered the sleeping form of the ranger with the comforter up to the chin.  
  
Stroking away the dark unruly locks Elrond kissed his youngest on the brow and noticed a small smile appearing on Aragorns lips.  
  
'He always looks so innocent when he sleeps, almost like the little boy he was when his mother brought him here.'  
  
Elrohir chuckled 'Do not let him hear that when he is awake.'  
  
Sobering he looked at his father,  
  
'I will stay here and keep an eye him. He should not be alone in his state. Nobody knows if it will happen again.'  
  
TBC 


	4. Chapter 4

Moonlight and Shadow  
  
Disc: not mine, unfortunately. *sigh*  
  
Dedication: This is for Evelyn, a real Ent-wife, and her family, the best friends someone can have. Thank you for inspiring me, you know what I mean. *wink*  
  
Thank you: Mor and Ashley, my betas, I know, without you both this story will have more typos and mistakes one can handle. *huggles*  
  
Thanks to all readers and Reviewers. I never expected to receive only one review and now there are 6 of them. I'm flattered. *blushes*  
  
A/N: This chapter is a little short, I'm sorry but that was the best time to end it.  
  
Thanx to a very busy schedule in RL, chapter 5 is still in work and I have to do some research over the weekend for the story. So the next chapter will be up a little later, I apologize.  
  
Reviewers Response:  
  
Grumpy: Thank you for coming back. I hope I can explain a few things in the next chapter.  
  
Lyn: When you mentioned it, I saw the mistake too. I will fix it when I rewrite the story.  
  
Bill the Pony 2: I'm glad you like it. But why did you laugh at the moon part? I'm curious, because you were the first one who laughed at that part. ^___^  
  
On with the story  
  
Chapter 4:  
  
The flashback from chapter 2 continues.  
  
~Flashback~  
  
Legolas' jaw dropped when he heard the human's words. 'What is that supposed to mean?' he asked.  
  
'I'm sorry, we don't know, we are only the messengers. The shaman did not explain it to us. He only told us that we have to leave towards the old woods beyond the great mountains to find you. He said that you will know what those words want to say.' Roac explained, a little ashamed of the fact that he was not able to explain further.  
  
'He just ordered us to leave, no matter what we have to say.' Giall who had not uttered a word over the whole conversation burst out, pushing away his plate. 'He knew that we would be not back before the winter approaches.'  
  
'Giall, mind your words. You know that there was no other option, it is not wise to disobey a shaman.' Murmured Aibon, not lifting his eyes from his own food. 'You know that he is the one who protects us.'  
  
'I know that, but why did he send us away with autumn arriving? We had to harvest the crop; we had to stock up our winter supplies. What if our families are starving this winter, because we were sent away with a silly message while we should be at home or on a hunting trip? Look outside, even here in the south is the winter coming, you know we will already be too late.'  
  
Thranduil had watched the whole exchange and thought it was time to contribute to the conversation. 'If you don't mind, we could help. We can stock up your supplies and provide you with some horses so you would be able to reach your homes earlier than on foot.' He offered.  
  
Roac inclined his head and nodded thankfully. 'Thank you, your help will be must appreciated, but I fear that the horses will not be able to survive the journey, it is simply too cold up there.'  
  
'But you could ride with them as far as it is possible and then send them back.' Legolas suggested.  
  
Roac face darkened with a bright red colour that rose from his neck up to his hairline. 'We can not ride.' He was barely audible even to the elves. Rising his head his eyes met the confused look on Legolas' face. 'We don't have horses, we do not use them. We only saw one here or there, when we come close to the mountains during our trips down south.'  
  
'So what do you use for long distant travels?' Legolas curiosity got the best of him. 'You can not walk for years to get from one point to the other.'  
  
'Oh we don't walk all distances on foot, we use sleighs.' Aibon explained. 'And what animals do you use, if you don't use horses?' 'We have special hounds; we are training them for the task of hauling the sleighs.'  
  
'Hounds? I never have heard something like that. But they are much smaller than horses, so you don't will be able to transport huge amount of supplies, or do you?'  
  
'Oh yes, they are able to push a lot of weight, we don't yoke only one or two in front of a sleigh, there are always more than eight of them. They are resistant against the cold and they are able to travel long distances without rest.' The pride in Roac's voice was clearly audible, and his eyes shone brightly when he recalled his stock of proud and strong hounds at home. 'I would love to show them to you one day.'  
  
'Who knows, maybe one day I will be able to visit your town, and then you show me famous dogs.' Legolas said. Remembering the last, what had been spoken of before it came to the dogs, he asked, 'When do you want to leave, just so we can prepare a few things.'  
  
'It would be the best, if we leave at the morrow, for we have lingered here too long and I fear the journey will last longer because of the snow up north.'  
  
'Then we will prepare all you need for your journey, and I will order a patrol to guard you as far as possible.' Thranduil made up again waving at a servant to give him orders to prepare the supplies for the humans.  
  
~End Flashback~  
  
Legolas snapped back to the present.  
  
He knew what he had to do. He must talk to the humans once again; maybe they could explain a few things. He was not sure what to tell them but maybe...only maybe he would be able to find out something. Jumping of his bed, hoping that the humans had not already left his home, he ran through the palace in an attempt to reach the courtyard before the group was leaving.  
  
Skidding to a halt on top of the outer staircase he saw no sign of the group. It seems that they had left only minutes before.  
  
Descending, taking two steps at once, he ran over the courtyard to the gates, followed by the amused looks of not few elves who had started their daily tasks. It was no every day's sight to see the prince of Mirkwood running in a sleeping tunic, with unbraided hair and on bare feet. Most of them had never seen their prince in this state, and it would be fun to tell others what they had witnessed. Leaving the gates behind he jogged up the path that would lead him in the direction of the travellers. A little away in the distance he saw the group, flanked by a group of elven warriors. 'Wait!' he shouted out sure that one of the elves would be able to hear him even from this distance he sped up to catch them, when they would stop.  
  
The guards bowed slightly when he arrived at the group. Surprised looks shot over the lithe form of the prince, raising an eyebrow Legolas looked down and blushed when he saw that he was still wearing one of his sleeping tunics.  
  
Lifting his head he turned his attention to the humans, addressing Roac, 'I'm sorry, that I was not there to bid you a proper farewell.'  
  
'Please do not apologise, your father told us that you had a very strenuous patrol, and that you needed your rest. We waited one more day, but now we had to leave.' Roac replied.  
  
'It is all right.. 'Legolas started, but then realisation crushed down on him. 'Wait what did you say? You waited one day longer?'  
  
'We wanted to leave yesterday, but after you showed not up at breakfast, we discussed and decided that we would stay one day more. We wanted to bid you farewell as well, you know.' Kazm explained.  
  
'I missed one day?' Legolas muttered totally unaware of the curious looks of the other elves and the humans.  
  
Ripping himself out of his reverie, he addressed the humans once more. 'Could I have a short talk with you?' Noticing the glances the humans exchanged he assured them. 'It will only take a few minutes. I do not want to delay you more than I already have.'  
  
'The message you delivered yesterday...sorry, the day before yesterday...' he corrected himself, 'is there more you can tell me? This message is a mystery to me and I do not know what to do with it.' Ashamed that he had to admit his insufficiency in this matter he dropped his gaze down his feet, and wondered subconsciously where he had left his boots.  
  
The soldiers that gathered around them were stunned; none of them had ever witnessed their prince so uncertain and that in front of humans before. They all averted their glances, some of them found their boots very interesting, others pretended to watch out for spiders or other maybe approaching enemies which of course would not show up so close to the palace grounds.  
  
Roac took a step closer to the prince and touched him lightly on the sleeves of his tunic. 'I'm very sorry, my lord, there is nothing more to tell. I wish I could, but there is nothing.'  
  
Legolas lifted his eyes and locked them to Roac's and for Roac time stood still, it seemed to him that even the wind had stilled. These eyes caught him and showed him a soul, bare of all shields that would usually hide the prince's true self, only showing what the elf would allow to shine through.  
  
There was an age older than the century and the innocence of a child, a deep love for all creatures that roamed the width of Arda and hate for the dark forces. There was strength but there was also vulnerability, and all these differences were mingled together in a soul he would never be able to understand. He would never know, but at that moment he was able to take a glimpse of an elven soul in its whole purity. And that one moment itself was definitely precious, to him.  
  
Blinking Legolas struggled to build up the shields that would hide his self, more ashamed than ever. He was ashamed that he had allowed a human to take a look at his soul. It should never have happened, but he had been too tired, too confused and too weary to take guard of his protection. Releasing his hold on Legolas arm, Roac blinked several times to clear his view, backed up to his people and bowed very low. 'My Lord, may your gods keep watch over you and the ones you care for.' Gathering his men again they prepared to leave. 'Wait!' that came from Aibon who still stood rooted to the place he inhabited earlier chewing on his lower lip. 'There was more, have you not heard?' 'Heard what?' Dumbfounded the three men watched their companion. 'Yes, it was when we made ready to leave, the shaman came up to give us his blessing for the journey. After that you all were busy to bid farewell to your families. You know that I do not have a family yet so I talked to some of the people, we stood near the shaman, who watched you, and there he murmured something I forgot about it 'til now, because it made no sense for me. He said' The Ringbearer must choose!' I do not know what this means.' Looking up to Legolas he added, 'Maybe you know of whom he spoke.' Aibon shut his mouth, thinking that he had been meddlesome, and blushed to a deep red. At that moment the guard captain approached on silent feet 'My lord we must leave if we want to reach the forest borders before sunset.'  
  
Legolas nodded and turned back to the men. 'May the grace of the Valar guarantee you a safe journey.' He bowed lightly to the group. The guard took in their places beside the group of humans and with a last bow they started to continue their journey. Legolas kept an eye on them until the group disappeared behind a turn of the path.  
  
Lost in thoughts he started to make his way home. Musing about the last words he had heard and what they would matter in comparison to the message and his experience and the lost day he had not witnessed that he had lost it, he did not watch out were his feet guided him. His toes were rustling through the fallen leaves which shone brightly with all the different colours of autumn. Golden leaves of maple, bright red ones of the chestnut, the yellow of the birch. All colours of the sun collected by nature itself are lightening up on the forest floor. The beautiful voices of the birds which would stay for the winter in Mirkwood filled the air with songs that mourned the loss of the summer but also greeted the silent times of winter. Legolas would have joined in their song but he did not even notice it at that time. All he paid attention were his thoughts which he turned over and over again in his mind trying to find an answer to the mysteries he had encountered the last days.  
  
Confused, he looked up. He should have reached the palace gates by now, but instead of the gates a clearing greeted him. He knew this place and for the first time in two days a smile appeared on his face, a smile that reached his eyes and lit them up. A small brook crossed the clearing and on the shores of this brook stood a mighty bass tree. He knew that tree since he was an elfling, this tree hold a special place in his heart that no other being would ever be able to occupy and he knew immediately, that here he would find the peace he yearned for and let it be only for one afternoon.  
  
This tree had held him when he had lost his naneth. It had dried his tears with its leaves, in its branches he had learned how to climb, always sure that it would never let him fall. He had shared all his sorrows, thoughts with the tree as well as the adventures he had in his long life. 'Nana Orn!' He breathed, using his childhood nickname for the tree. Running up to the tree with all his enthusiasm and excitement, he sank down on his knees beside the base of the trunk. Resting his face against the rough bark and circling his arms around the old trunk he let his despair run free, released his frustration and cried without shame, knowing that she would never judge him for this weakness. He was after all a child at heart, no matter his age. Right now the tree was just like his naneth, his confidante. He knew not how long he had wet the bark with his tears, but sometime later his sobs stilled and he calmed down, releasing his hold on the trunk. Jumping nimbly up to one of the lower branches of his chosen naneth he climbed higher and higher and finally settled down in the crown of the ancient tree overlooking most of the other trees in the forest.  
  
The sunrays filtered through the leaves and sparkled his surroundings in gold and red. At peace for the first time since he had awoken in the cellar, he let his left leg dangle, leaned his head back against the trunk and folded his hands over his stomach letting the soothing presence of the tree balm his soul. The branches shifted closer to the resting elf, covering and shielding his body with their golden leaves. Nobody would be able to find the elf unless he wished to be found.  
  
Feeling safe and protected Legolas relaxed and listened to the sounds of the woods. The trees told him stories of old combined with the voices of the birds and the soft touch of the leaves which brushed through his hair like the loving hands of a mother all beings worked together to give him peace and lull him to the elven realm of sleep.  
  
At last he gave in and his eyes glazed over when he entered his own dream world.  
  
TBC  
  
' 


	5. Chapter 5

Ouch, you had to wait 2 weeks for an update.

I appologize for the delay, but this chapter made my hair grey before time. LOL

No seriously, I rewrote it a lot of times but I'm still not sure about it.

I do apologize if I messed up the Silmarillion, but I can barely remember all the events that took place in that book.

I think I should read it again. Where is spare time when you need it.sigh

Reviews:

grumpy: thankx for coming back

A Sly Fan: I will explain in one of the next chapters.

That Undomiel Chick: Thanx a lot

Nihgtshade Berry: thanx for your hundred reviews huggles I promise I will update as fast it is possible to me.

A/N: Ashley, you are a great guy, I don't know what I would do without you.Thanx for betaing

and co-writing this chapter. thousand hugs

That is enough rambling for one evening, on with the story.

Have Fun

Disclaimer: as usual, see in chapter 1

Chapter 5  
  
Aragorn was furious. Furious, frustrated and bored. Yes. Most of all he was bored like he had never been before in his entire life.  
  
It was now one week since his accident as he had named it. He still was not able to remember, but that was not what frustrated him.  
  
One week without sword training in the practicing fields, one week without archery, one week without hunting or camping outsides of Rivendell, one week without walking in the wilds, and one week under the permanent watchful eyes of his family and his friends. Every night one of them would be sitting beside his bed watching and ready to intervene should he do something foolish.  
  
The first two nights he had not cared at all, for he hardly had noticed. They had drugged him into sleep, he snorted at the thought of it now, and the third night he had refused to drink the tea. He told them he felt fine and needed no tea to help him sleep.  
  
The nights had been uneventful, he had slept like a baby, without nightmares, no sleepwalking and no trying to cut himself. Nothing had bothered his dreams.  
  
But the days... the days were hell. Being confined in his room, constantly monitored, made his nerves tingle. Pacing up and down his room like a trapped warg was all he could do besides reading.  
  
'Oh, wonderful. A new book about the history of Arda.' He had thanked Elrohir sarcastically on the fourth day of his imprisonment, pretending not to notice the sad look in his eyes 'How many of them are left in the library?'  
  
Sitting on his balcony and watching the bustling activities of the inhabitants of Imladris was more than he could bear. He seriously had considered jumping out of the balcony, stealing a horse and fleeing into the wild. He was not made for sitting around in a room every day, doing nothing at all.  
  
His heart longed for the woods, and he missed the wind running through his hair. He missed the smell of a flickering campfire and he missed sleeping under the sky, littered with the sparkling stars he knew so well. He missed the tracking of deer, and he even missed the battles with the orcs.  
  
The only thing that had interrupted his boredom was a pillow war with his brothers last evening. He could not recall who and why it had started but he could clearly remember the end of it.  
  
A wide grin appeared on his face when he thought back and recalled Glorfindel's face when he had entered the room, carrying a tray and a second later a pillow had smacked him across the face, the overstressed fabric torn apart and a shower of tiny feathers rained down on him. They clung to his brows, covered his robes and one particular feather had found its way into Glorfindel's nose.  
  
The mighty Balrog slayer had started to sneeze like mad, abandoning the tray which clattered to the floor, sending pieces of crockery mixed with the food all over, while Glorfindel tried in vain to remove the feather. Sneezing all the time the elf bent forward, sending the feathers from his robes up into the air so that they surrounded him like a cloud.  
  
First the brothers stood frozen in place, but watching the mighty ancient warrior fighting against little feathers and losing badly had sent them into helpless laughter. Oh, how he wished to paint this picture, for it would be a wonderful addition to the gallery.  
  
The grin left Aragorn's face when he shook himself out of his reverie. Yes, that was the only fun he had in a whole week.  
  
He could not damn his family for caring, he knew that they only wanted his best, and they wanted to protect him, but to be treated like a raw egg that could break while only looking at it? It was too much for him. He was an adult and not a little child. He was able to handle whatever life would have in stock for him. He would find out what had happened to him that night one week ago, and he would do it on his own, he needed no help.  
  
He had to get out as soon as possible before he became insane from the treatment and the care. He decided to wait another day and should nothing change he knew what he would do.  
  
Scuffling back into his room he searched for the book Elrohir had brought him three days ago and found it under the chair that was seated in a corner of his room, where he had tossed it in frustration. Laying back on his bed head resting against the headboard he started to read, but could not concentrate on the story, because his thoughts raced, planning to find a way out of Imladris, should his father not allow him to leave for a few days.  
  
He had to go, and he knew where he would go.  
  
Had he known what took place only a few rooms further down the hallway his decision would have been another.  
  
Elrond sat in his study, piles of parchments surrounding him. Almost every book was removed from the shelves and was stacked to towers around the desk and the various chairs and seats in the room. If someone should enter now, he would barely be able to see the carpet under all the items that were thrown on it.  
  
He sat in silence bracing his head in his hands, with furrowed brows he mustered the mess and thought that it looked like Estel's room one week ago. Returning his gaze to the paintings he had retrieved from Estel's room like he had done the last days, begging for an answer. He had not slept much, and a few hours ago a headache had set in.  
  
Massaging his temples to ease the pain, he thought about what he should tell his sons. He knew what had caused all that had happened to Estel, he knew very well, but he did not know if he had the courage to tell them. One part of his mind told him that it would be better to rest and take a few herbs against his headache, but he dared not, for fear of losing the little control he had. Moreover the herbs would only strengthen that thing that taunted him now nearly constantly.  
  
Staring into nothing he mused about the irony of the situation. He was the powerful elf lord, ruler of Imladris and bearer of Vilya, but now he would not be able to stop what should never have happened again.  
  
A soft knock on the door was heard and the golden head of Glorfindel perked in. Smiling at his friend he entered, closely followed by a maid servant with a tray, overcrowded with fresh fruits, bread, cheese and various other things, including a jar filled with dark red wine.  
  
'Tell me, my friend.' He started to speak. 'What would you tell me, if you would find me in a state like yours?'  
  
'I think I would lecture you, send you to bed and make you a cup of a sleeping draught.' Elrond replied, raising his tired head.  
  
'Hopefully not without something to eat at first.' Glorfindel teased his old friend 'I thought that some of the old wine would do the same work than one of your sleeping draughts...' '...and it tastes much better.' He added with a grin.  
  
'I'm not...'  
  
'Hungry, I know, but I am, and I do not want to eat alone, so if you don't mind, I would like to have my meal in good company with a little talk to finish the day.' While talking Glorfindel had cleared the desk from most of the parchments and books and motioned to the servant to place the tray in front of Elrond.  
  
'Thank you' he addressed the girl, who bowed and left the two lords alone, closing the door silently behind her.  
  
Elrond watched the warrior who had picked up one of the overstuffed chairs and set it in front of his desk. Glorfindel placed one of the filled plates in front of Elrond, poured wine in two goblets, and settled back in the chair. He took in the flavour of the deep red liquid, savouring the smell of grapes mingled with the rich scent of black currant and a zest of old wood, coming from the barrels in which the wine had rested the last century. He took a first sip, rolling the wine around in his mouth and swallowed it after a while.  
  
'This tastes definitely better than one of your draughts.' He told Elrond with a smirk.  
  
The lord in question had not paid attention to what Glorfindel had done or said and poked around on his plate.  
  
'Middle Earth to Elrond! Are you still with us, or have you left for the havens and I'm sitting here talking to a ghost?'  
  
'Yes...' Elrond murmured, his gaze fixed on the plate but not noticing at what he looked or what had been said.  
  
With a stern look Glorfindel leaned forward, grasped one hand of his friend and tried to pry Elronds attention away from the plate.  
  
'My friend, you are so far away! What happened? Talk to me! Have you discovered something? Do you know what had caused this?' He asked waving his hand in disgust over the paintings.  
  
Elrond lifted his weary eyes and met the concerned gaze of his best friend and most trusted advisor. He, sighing, leaned back in his chair. He decided he had to tell some one and Glorfindel was the best choice he had, and maybe the ancient warrior was of more help than he thought.  
  
Closing his eyes to concentrate, he finally made the decision to fill in Glorfindel to the complete story.  
  
'You know, it is hard for me to tell you, because it was not meant to happen again.' He started.  
  
Glorfindel opened his mouth to answer but Elrond begged him to remain silent with a gaze. He needed to tell the story without being interrupted. When he would have finished he would face the accusation, which he was sure would come.  
  
'Short before the Last Alliance, Gil-Galad visited Oropher in Greenwood to talk about the alliance which should unite elves and men for the fight against Sauron. During the meeting a guard burst into the hall and shouted out that another victim had been found. Oropher and his son shared a glance and left immediately without explaining anything to Gil-Galad and his men. Gil-Galad followed them, curious of what had occurred such that the king and his heir left unceremoniously an important meeting.  
  
'They ventured deep into the forest and what they found there was even too much for the seasoned warriors who had accompanied the High-King. Not few of them paled and gagged. Some could not stand what they saw and left running. Oropher covered his mouth with the sleeve of his robe and walked closer to the body of the dead elf. It was mutilated in such a way that it was barely recognizable as an elven being. Only the face had been untouched, the look of pain and terror frozen for eternity on his fair features. Gil-Galad demanded to know what had happened there, and why it was "another" victim.  
  
'Oropher told him that "over the course of the last week five, nay, now six elves had been killed in the same way". Bending down he retrieved a piece of parchment from beside the dead elf. It was a painting of the moon, now coloured by the victim's blood. This was the sign that it had been the same killer as before.  
  
'Oropher said that they had been not able to find the killer to this point and the only evidence they had were these pictures, drawn by the victim himself. Later, when the body had been removed and they all had returned to the palace, Oropher tried to explain what he knew about the murderer. It had started four weeks ago, when the first body had been found. At first they had thought that it must be orcs, but then the foul creatures never dared showing up so close to the palace grounds. So it must be another who killed the elves but they did not know whom it could be.  
  
'They had searched the homes of the victims and they had only found these disturbing pictures, of which they would find one beside every dead body. They discussed the threat the whole night and came to no conclusion. But they decided that they would watch the realm for a sign of who could be the next victim. The paintings were their only hope, and if they could find out the elf who was chosen to be the next victim they would be able to get in the way of the murderer. Three days later it happened. One of the guards reported that he had found a picture on one of his comrade's bed, and the warrior in question had not shown up for his duties. He had sent a few guards out for tracking the missed warrior and Gil-Galad and the others followed them shortly after.  
  
'Two hours later they heard a piercing scream ringing through the forest that made them shiver. Running towards the sound they heard nothing more, but when they burst out onto a little clearing they saw the missed elf pinned against the trunk of a tree with two arrows protruding from his chest and in front of the unfortunate being there stood... another elf, his blade raised for the final low. They yelled at him to distract him from his doing while they ran up to the tree to capture the killer and free the wounded elf. But the killer did not care that he was caught and finished his task without a fraction of a second of hesitation. One of the guards took him down but it was too late. Another immortal life had been taken and that by one of his own kin.  
  
'It took all of the guards to hold the killer in place; he fought like mad, even when it was clear that he was outnumbered. But finally they managed to get him down and bind him tightly. The guards lifted him up to his feet and for the first time they were able to take a closer look to his face. It was one of the artists of Greenwood, a well known artist. His pictures and lyrics were much liked all over the realm. But now he was not the patient and soft hearted elf they knew, but a fierce killer. 'They took him to the palace to question him but he refused to talk. Gil- Galad had sensed something around this elf but he would need the power of Vilya to proof his suspicion. So he asked to clear the hall from all others than himself, Oropher, Thranduil and the killer, and ordered them not to return until one of them would grant them the permission. The warriors protested but the High-King was adamant in his decision, and soon they were alone. Gil-Galad rose his hand and Vilya's light shone bright through the dime throne room of Greenwood.  
  
'The murderous elf screamed and cursed when the light hit him. He fell on his knees and struggled against his bonds. Suddenly his voice became much darker and hoarser and he started to curse and swear in the dark language. He raised his head and what they saw made their blood run cold. The usually deep blue orbs of the elf were now two black pools, but the darkness was moving like clouds on a windy day, it swirled around and covered all of the eyes.  
  
'Facing Gil-Galad the elf started to speak, and it was clear that it was not his mind which uttered the words. The words spoke of revenge and generations of hatred and that it would destroy the elves one by one. Gil- Galad shivered. He knew what he had faced at that moment and he was close to giving up, because he knew that he could not destroy that creature, but he also knew that he could not allow that thing to roam around freely. He could feel the concerned glances of Oropher and his son, but he could not release his hold on the being. He would explain later. Using the powers of Vilya he finally managed to rip away the dark presence from the poor elf, of whom he knew now that he was a victim himself.  
  
'No one on Arda had the power to withstand that thing which had occupied his body. A dark substance ran out of the former artist's nose and eyes and formed a swirling cloud above him. Released from the hold that the presence had over him the elf collapsed on the floor, sobbing and shivering. Gil- Galad intensified his hold on the cloud and Vilya shone brighter than before.  
  
'The cloud moved around frantically and tried to come free, but Vilya was too strong for it. Knowing that he had only one chance to remove this evil from here, Gil-Galad called up all the powers he knew were in his ring, added his own strength to it, and from one second to the other the cloud disappeared behind the walls of a deep blue whirlwind that had been built up around it. Gil-Galad closed his eyes and sent the whirlwind out of one of the windows and it rose high above the trees of Greenwood and disappeared in the north.  
  
'He stood in the middle of the room, eyes closed, breathing heavily for more than one hour, and no one dared to touch him. Oropher, Thranduil and the artist watched as the blue light of Vilya dimmed down and disappeared finally. Gil-Galad opened his eyes, looked at the others and said that it is done, then collapsed, totally exhausted. It took him two days to recover before he told Oropher what he had done, knowing that he would not be able to destroy it, so he had moved the cloud high up into the Northern Waste and barricaded it in eternal ice surrounded by spells, so that it would not be able to escape. That was what he hoped. But he was wrong.'  
  
Elrond's voice faded but then he took up his story again. Glorfindel still watched him in silence not knowing what to say.  
  
'Gil-Galad told me the story when he gave me Vilya, and he told me that it would be in my responsibility to fight this evil back should it show up once again. And now it is back. But I will not be able to fight it back.'  
  
Lowering his head in shame Elrond stopped his tale again, feeling the presence linger at the outskirts of his mind teasing and taunting him that he would soon not be able to withstand longer.  
  
He garnered all his remaining strength and pushed it back on last time, knowing that he would not be able to do it again.  
  
Glorfindel had watched his friend and now he opened his mouth to speak for the first time since Elrond had started his story. 'Why will you not be able to fight it back? You are the bearer of Vilya, and the last time Vilya sent this thing, whatever it was, into its prison.'  
  
Elrond raised his weary head, lifted his hand and showed Vilya to Glorfindel. The Balrog slayer gasped and felt goose bumps rise on his arms while cold shivers ran down his spine.  
  
The deep blue colour of Vilya was now tainted with black. The dark colour whirled around in the stone and it grew, slowly but steadily.  
  
'What... ?' Glorfindel draw in a shaking breath. 'What does that mean? Do you tell me, that this, whatever it may be, has escaped and is now trying to take over Vilya and it had chosen Estel as its next victim?'  
  
'No,' Elrond replied. 'It does not take over Vilya. It is taking hold of... me.'  
  
Glorfindel gasped and jumped on his feet. 'When did it start? Maybe we can shove it back again, like Gil-Galad did the last time. Maybe we can find a way to destroy it once and for all. Maybe –'  
  
'Sit down and let me tell you!' Elrond ordered and Glorfindel obeyed immediately too shocked to contradict. 'It started almost five years ago...'  
  
'WHAT?! Just one moment. Do you tell me now, that you fought against this thing for the last five years without telling anybody? Glorfindel rose again on his feet, leaning over the desk to face Elrond. 'Forgive me my friend but..... WERE YOU MAD?' Breathing heavily Glorfindel yelled at the lord. 'Why did you not tell me or your sons what had happened? Perhaps then together we would have been able to find a solution.'  
  
'WHAT SHOULD I HAVE DONE IN YOUR OPINION? MEETING MY SONS AT DINER ASKING THEM HOW THEIR DAYS WAS AND THEN TELLING THEM "OH, BY THE WAY, SOON YOUR FATHER WILL BE A KILLER WHOSE INTENTION IS TO HUNT DOWN WOOD ELVES FOR SPORT AND KILL THEM"?' Elrond yelled back, no longer able to control his emotions. He felt exhausted and weary and his only wish was to end this matter once and for all. Over the years he had searched for a way to get rid of that evil and now he thought he had found it. But he nearly had not the heart to tell Glorfindel what he must be done.  
  
Panting, Elrond closed his eyes and took a deep breath before saying, 'I'm sorry, Glorfindel, I should not yell at you, please forgive me. But please sit down. I have to tell you, what I found out and what has to be done.'  
  
Glorfindel sat down again, and waited. Elrond took a deep breath and prepared himself for the final part of his speech.  
  
'What I found out was that the crimes in the second age were not the first one. It started all much earlier, you know about the crime done to the Teleri long ago, by Feanor. I found out that this thing was the reason for it. Morgoth himself sent this cloud to the world to assure that the elves would kill themselves. It is told in old reports that the day Feanor and his men slaughtered the Teleri the day became dark with black clouds swirling around the Noldor. Every time one fragment of the cloud touched an elf, he killed with more brutality anyone had ever watched before.' 'When the cloud disappeared all the possessed elves became normal again, crying about what they had done. They could remember everything and not few of them committed suicide. That was what Morgoth always wanted: destroy the creation of Illuvatar without doing it himself. This cloud was the creation of Morgoth and it carried his cruelty and his hatred for all beings he could not control.  
  
'After the downfall of Morgoth the cloud disappeared and everybody thought that it had vanished. But it only slept, for it came back ages later, and nobody knew it. Sauron used it for his purpose but he could not control it so he banned it but it escaped again, to show up in Greenwood. That was when Gil-Galad banned it into its icy prison in the Northern Waste, hoping that no one would be able to get there and free it. But he had underestimated its powers and that it would be able to free itself.  
  
'I know it chose me because of its history with Vilya. It probably thought that it would be fun to use the bearer of the ring that banned it three thousand years ago. But I think I found a way to destroy it, and not only ban it for the next centuries until it shows up again and starts again to kill innocent beings.' Elrond sighed and squared his shoulders for his final statement.  
  
'To kill it, I need your help old friend. I have to ask you, because I think you will be able to fulfil this task.'  
  
Glorfindel leaned forward afraid of what would come next.  
  
'I think it can be killed when it has a physical form.' Elrond continued 'I beg you to do me this one favour. When this thing overtakes my body completely – you will know when the time is right.'  
  
'Kill me!'  
  
TBC


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: So, I have finished another one. I hope you will enjoy it.

Again there is no Legolas in this chapter. the plot bunny did not let me write about him.

But he will show up again in one of the next chapters, promised!

To my reviewers:

**grumpy:** You don't believe that I tell you if your wrong or right, don't you?

You will se in time.

**Beling:** Thank you. I love the tree too. I always loved the way elves have with nature, especialy

the wood elves. so I thought, that it would be fitting for a lonely elf to have a tree for

support.

**Thanks to all of you who had put me on their author's alert list and thank you to all of you lurker out there. I know that you are reading. ;-)**

****

**Disclaimer: see chapter 1**

****

**Thanks again to Ashley, I really do not know what I would do without you.**

Now on with the story.

Moonlight and Shadow

Chapter 6  
  
It took Aragorn longer to finish his preparations than he thought, but two days later he was ready to leave.  
  
The hold of his family on his life had eased a little; he could go out now, without someone escorting him. He used his new won freedom for long walks in the gardens, always aware of the fact that he was watched from afar. In times he walked down to the kitchen and gathered some bread or fruit. The cooks were glad that he had regained his appetite and fed him with all he wanted to have. They did not know that most of the food would land in his closet for later use. He had even managed to hide a dagger, which he had found in the Hall of Fire one evening, from the watchful eyes of his family.  
  
This was the only weapon he had in possession so far and he knew he had to gather more for the trip he was up to make. The way to Mirkwood was a dangerous one, and even for one who was armed with a bow and sword would definitely be at risk. And yet he was making the journey with only a dagger! It was simply attempting suicide and he had no death wish.  
  
After a heated argument with his brothers, they had allowed him to stay alone in his room, but they were adamant in their wish to place a guard in front of his door, just in case, like they had said.  
  
Oh, how he wished to persuade and assure his father that everything was all right, but Elrond had closed himself in his study and wished not to be disturbed. He thought it very strange, for he could not remember the time his father had done such a thing. But the faithful Glorfindel had refused to disturb the lord for any purpose.  
  
'He has a very important task at hand and the research needs all his attention and time.' Glorfindel had told Elrond's sons at dinner yesterday. 'Please let him be.' Glorfindel had looked at each one of them, his eyes begging not to ask further questions.  
  
Aragorn was torn between the will to regain his freedom and the wish to help his family. After a strong battle which took place in his heart, he chose the former. He knew that it was selfish but he would go crazy if he should stay longer in his prison. He thought that his wise father and his much older brothers would be able to handle whatever threat was coming up on them.  
  
He would leave.  
  
He had to think about everything that had happened the last weeks. He needed to be alone.  
  
It was not that he did not love to be with his family, but this time it was different, he was forced to stay at home.  
  
He would be back as soon as possible.  
  
This was a promise he made to himself.

Glorfindel sat alone in the Halls of Fire in front of one of the great fireplaces and stared into space, thinking back what had happened two days ago.  
  
Since that day he had mused about the promise he had given to Elrond. A promise that would kill him in the moment he fulfilled it. He first had refused, then argued, and at last, begged his old friend, literally on his knees, to think about his decision one more time. There had to be another solution that he was sure of. But he also knew that Elrond could be right in his line of thoughts.  
  
Maybe this thing, he shuddered by the thought of a doom that was placed on Arda by Morgoth himself, could only be killed when it was in a living being.  
  
He had tried to persuade Elrond to ask Galadriel and Mithrandir for help. He knew as well as Elrond that Vilya was the most powerful of the elvenrings, but maybe, only maybe the combined forces of the two other rings would be able to stop the inescapable.  
  
But Elrond had refused to do so.  
  
He would not endanger the other Ringbearers. Nobody knew what would happen should the power of Narya and Nenya fail.  
  
He did not want that thing taking control over all three free rings and their bearers. Even if he chooses to call for help, they would not be able to reach Imladris in time.  
  
The last attack had shown him that his time was running out and the time when the final blow would come was not so far in the future as he would like to have it. He would use his remaining time to arrange his matters and write letters to all of his children to explain what he had done.  
  
Elrond knew that his death would be devastating for them, but he also knew that they would be strong for each other and that they would not fade after his demise. His children would continue his work in Imladris and they would make sure that Aragorn would fulfil his destiny.  
  
Glorfindel had left his friend a few hours ago. They had talked about the place where they would go should the time come.  
  
Elrond had decided to leave the confines of Imladris, for he did not know what would happen when he died. He had said that he would call for Glorfindel when he would feel the presence comes closer.  
  
Glorfindel was afraid of that moment like he had never been in this entire life. He thought back to the time when he died in Gondolin, fighting the Balrog. He then had not felt the fear that now gripped his heart with cold claws.  
  
He had made a promise, he always had held true to his word, but now he did not know whether he can fulfil this particular one or not.  
  
Glorfindel knew that he had to be strong not for himself but for his friend who had trusted him for millennia. He would not abandon this trust now, even when it was the most desperate moment in his life.  
  
He felt like breaking down and crumple to ashes under the burden Elrond had laden on him. But he would be strong.  
  
For his friend and his family.

After Dinner Aragorn had told his brothers that he would walk to the library to bring back the books he had collected in his room over the last days. What he did not tell them was that he would make a detour to the armoury.  
  
He had asked them if they wanted to join him later in the Hall of Fire. They had agreed but first they would try again to lure their father out of his study. No one had seen him the last two days except Glorfindel, and they became a little more than anxious now.  
  
Aragorn could feel the tension that lingered in every corner of the Last Homely House, and he was not alone. The elves, much more sensitive than the human, felt it as well and they knew that something would happen here, but they knew not what and when.  
  
The atmosphere changed from light-hearted to sombre. The elves spoke only in hushed voices. Nobody sang, the minstrels played no longer. The thick winter clouds that held the promise of the first snow did their best to dim out the bright sunlight at day and the stars at night.  
  
It seemed as if the whole place was buried under a thick grey blanket.  
  
So Imladris was by now a cheerless place painted in diverse shades of grey. To an outsider who would by chance visit Imladris at that time, it would look like the light and life of the Eldar had already left this place.  
  
Aragorn slowed his pace and thought about the last attempt to reach their father. They had come up to the front of his study only to meet Glorfindel who guarded the door like a dwarf would watch over his treasures. He had told them that it would not last much longer now until their father would explain everything to them. That was the only answer they would get out of the warrior every time they tried to find out what had happened.  
  
So they waited impatiently and worriedly but confidently in the faith of the strength and wisdom of their father.

Now Aragorn was on his way to the Hall of Fire satisfied with the fact that he had not only managed to get a sword out of the armoury but also a bow and a quiver ... and... much more important.... that he had managed to get those weapons to his room unnoticed.  
  
He would leave tonight when he could be sure that everybody would be at sleep. He knew out of experience that his brothers would have a last look into his room before they went to sleep as well so he had to stay there for a few more hours.  
  
Walking down the hallway he met Glorfindel and greeted him. He had not seen the warrior the whole day, but the elf was so lost in his thoughts that he did not react to the greeting.  
  
Taken aback by the lack of response Aragorn's gaze followed him and saw that the elf was heading for Elrond's study and his curiosity got the best of him. He turned and followed the elder elf. From a distance he watched Glorfindel squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath before knocking lightly at the door. After a muffled reply was heard he entered the room and closed the door behind him.  
  
Aragorn tiptoed up to the door and pressed his ear against the wood. He knew that the elves inside would be able to detect him even if he was as silent as possible, and he hoped that they would be so absorbed in their conversation that he would be undetected.  
  
First he heard only the rustling of robes then the dark voice of his father. 'It is time my friend. I can feel it's presence draw near. We have to leave immediately.'  
  
'The horses are waiting, my lord.' Aragorn could hear the soft voice of Glorfindel. 'But please I beg you, as a friend and your advisor, there must be another option.'  
  
Aragorn was shocked. Never had he heard the mighty Balrog slayer pleading like he did now. He strained his ears to catch every single detail of the conversation inside.  
  
'You know that there is no other choice.' Elrond spoke up again. ' We have had that discussion before. You know that it has to be done and it must happen quickly.'  
  
'Yes, but...' Glorfindel started again.  
  
'No "buts" please my friend, we must leave now before it is too late. I'm prepared and so should you by now.'  
  
Glorfindel's sighed. 'Come on let's go.'  
  
The rustling of the robes told Aragorn that is was high time to leave his position or he would be caught. Twisting around he searched for a place to hide, but there was none, so he was forced to run down the corridor. He had just rounded the corner when the door of the study opened and the two elf lords exited.  
  
He pressed his back against the wall and tried to melt with the shadows, hoping that they would not come in this direction. Fortunately, the two elves passed by the turnoff he was hiding in. Neither of them noticed the shadow that stood there.  
  
Releasing the breath he had held for so long, Aragorn slumped down on the floor and rested his back against the wall. What he had witnessed just now made no sense to him. What task would lead the two most powerful elves out of Imladris so late at night and in secrecy? Something was wrong. Very wrong, and he knew it.  
  
He had seen Glorfindel's face when he came up to the study. He had looked devastated and sad. And now his father.... he had seemed defeated. The usually proud shoulders slumped down under an unseen burden. He had looked like he would carry the whole weight of Arda on them. And his eyes... The usually shining, warm brown orbs were dull and underlined with dark blue and black circles. He looked as if he had not slept for months.  
  
And there was something else he could not grasp. It was around his father and it disturbed him greatly. It felt wrong, and it made the little hairs on his neck stand on end and he felt goose bumps rise on his arms. Shivering, he wrapped his arms around his body and tucked his fingers under his armpits. He felt as though the pale fingers of death had reached out for him.  
  
After a short time sitting in the dark he rose to his feet. He decided he would follow his father and friend.  
  
They had gone to the stables, so he walked down the same path. When he arrived, there was no trace of the two elves. Obviously they had left without further delay.  
  
Turning around he noticed, under the dim light, that the two lords were on their way to the gate that would lead them out of Imladris.  
  
He ran into the stable, saddled his horse as quick and silently as possible. He did not mind being watched by the large eyes of the many horses in their stalls one bit. He led the horse out of the stable and prepared to mount, when a hand fell heavy on his shoulder, effectively holding him so that his feet were still planted on the ground.  
  
'Where do you think are you going?' It was the angry voice of Elladan.  
  
'Ada and Glorfindel have left a few minutes ago and I want to follow them.' He explained. Elladan opened his mouth to speak but Aragorn continued, ignoring him.  
  
'Something is wrong, I know it. I can feel it as you do. Something terrible is going to happen and I want to be there to help if I can.'  
  
'You will not leave Imladris in the middle of the night without any weapon. And you are not going anywhere without us too.' Elladan told him firmly. 'How do you intend to fight without weapons, hmm? You wait here and prepare 'Ro's and my horses while I go and fetch 'Ro and gather some weapons.' Elladan commanded, turning on his heels and running back to the house.  
  
Some moments later, as Aragorn led the two horses out of the stable, the twins appeared on the path as well. Both were clad in their usual travel clothes and both carried their bows and quivers over their shoulders. Elladan held in his hand Aragorn's own weapons and handed them over to his younger brother without a word. None of them spoke until they had left the gate and followed the tracks, which were clearly visible in the light of the full moon above, into the woods.  
  
'What do you know?' Elrohir turned his gaze towards Aragorn and the ranger told them all he had witnessed.  
  
'What could it be that could force Glorfindel to beg father "not to do it"?' That came from Elladan after Aragorn had finished his short recount.  
  
'I do not know, but it must be grave. Valar, he had fought a Balrog, and now ....you should have heard him. I could swear he had been on his knees when he begged father not to do it.'  
  
Silence fell over the brothers again as they rode through the dark forest. After about an hour they heard voices in the distance. Exchanging glances, they spurred their horses to a faster trot. Not far from where they were they could see a little clearing bathed in the silver light of the moon. It was so bright that even Aragorn was able to see as clearly what happens.  
  
He rained his horse to a stop, before dismounting in the cover of the trees surrounding the clearing, and was shortly followed by the twins. They did not want to be discovered before they found out what this was all about.  
  
The twins followed him in their own graceful and silent way as he sneaked up to the tree line. What they saw made their blood run cold and they felt as if their hearts had been ripped out.  
  
Elrond stood in the middle of the clearing. He had raised his head to the sky exposing his neck to the blade that was pointed at this throat. The blade trembled in Glorfindel's hand. His face showed clearly the horror and the pain he felt. His eyes, flooded with tears which ran down his cheeks, begged for the release of this duty he had to fulfil.  
  
Then it began.  
  
The silver light turned into red. Startled the brothers averted their gazes from the events on the clearing and looked up through the canopy of the forest. They watched in awe when the once bright silver moon turned piece after piece into a deep red colour. Soon the world looked like it was drown in blood.  
  
The nature felt the change too. The trees and the animals stopped their sounds and there was nothing other than silence. The air grew so thick that it felt like they could touch it and grasp it.  
  
'My dreams....' Aragorn stuttered.  
  
'DO IT NOW!' The shout that came from Elrond shook them out of their congealment. Their heads snapped back to the events on the clearing and at that very moment, it was as though time had stood still.  
  
Glorfindel raised his blade again – this time without hesitation – and there was no sign of the trembling fearful elf they had seen mere minutes before. Now there stood the mighty warrior they all knew so well.  
  
'Forgive me my friend.' They heard him say clearly. 'Forgive me. But we will meet soon again in Mandos Hall.' He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second.  
  
The brothers could only watch frozen in shock when the blade fell down with deadly precision.  
  
TBC 


	7. Chapter 7

No need to wait any longer,

here is Chapter 7

**Moonlight and Shadow**

**Disc: **see chapter one

**summary: **see chapter one

**Thanx: Ashley your the best. ((hugs)) **

**Thanx to all who are reading, feel free to leave a review ;o)**

**Review responces are at the end of the chapter**

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**Have fun!**

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Chapter 7  
  
Shocked from what he just had witnessed and with a cry of despair on his lips Aragorn jumped out of the cover of the trees, shortly followed by the twins, and ran as fast as he could over the clearing to meet up with the two elves in the centre.  
  
But they arrived too late.  
  
It happened all too fast and they had been too far away to intervene. The lord sank on his knees and blood from a deep wound in his chest and a cut around his neck ran soaked through his robes and dripped onto the forest floor.  
  
The murderer made no move; he only watched his victim sinking down on the knees and then slowly crumpling down until it lay motionless on the ground. Blood dripped down the still raised blade and formed a little puddle at his feet. He made no move even when the brothers came closer. He only watched his victim, slowly bleeding to death.  
  
He only took notice of the brothers when Aragorn came into his line of view and dropped down on his knees beside the fallen elf, turning him around on his back to reach the wounds.  
  
Only then did he come to life again.  
  
He lifted his gaze from the fallen elf and the human and raised the blade again, pointing it at the twins.  
  
'Stay where you are! I do not have business with you!' He stated and added after a moment of thought with a smirk. 'Not now, but maybe later.'  
  
The twins stood frozen in their place. They could not believe what they had seen only seconds before.  
  
'What have you done?' It was Elladan, who first broke their silence.  
  
'Ada, please tell me, what has happened here?'  
  
'Ada?' Elrond moved one of his eyebrows in a mocking gesture. 'Oh ... you mean that elf, whose body is now mine?' The creature's eyes became a distant look. 'He is still here, hiding somewhere in this mind, but he will not last very much longer. His body will remain here until I have fulfilled my wrath. Then, when I will not need him any more, this body will follow the soul of his former owner.' The creature lifted his right hand and examined it closely.  
  
'It is good to have a body again, and such a powerful one at least.' With a sigh the creature turned his attention back to the brothers. 'It had been a long time, but now I'm free and I will finally have my revenge.'  
  
'Who are you?' Elrohir shouted out. Fear for his father clearly evident in his eyes.  
  
'Who am I?' The creature retorted. 'Did your father not tell you what happened short before the last alliance or further back in the days of old, when the Noldorim killed their own kin?  
  
'No? Maybe he thought you are not worth to know it. But it would be more likely that nobody knows. You so called firstborns are always so protective of your past, especially when it comes to your weak points.' The creature declared, a smile still playing around his lips, but it was no smile of joy but one of pure malice. 'So let me lighten up your knowledge a little bit.' With a slight bow the creature continued his speech. 'Your ancestors named me Morchaintdur, for some reason I might add. They feared me ... no ... let's say they were scared.  
  
'No one was able to defeat me, and no one will ever defeat me now that I'm back. I could tell you what happened but I think it will be more fun to let you find out on your own.'  
  
Morchaintdur turned his gaze back to the fallen elf lord and the human who tried to stench the blood flow from the wounds with his hands.  
  
'Maybe this one lasts so long that he can tell you what he knows. He knows me, from his time in Gondolin and from the last time we met in the last age. But I doubt that he will be able to talk to you before he leaves for the Halls of Mandos again. I seriously don't think that he will be sent back a second time.  
  
'You!' He pointed the sword towards Aragorn. 'You received my message, but this one was not meant for you. You humans are not my first goal. One day it is your turn to die, maybe even from my hand but not now. Maybe I do not need to erase you from the face of Arda, which is a task you will accomplish on your own. I'm only here for the Firstborns, but should you cross my path with the intention to interfere, I will kill you as well.'  
  
The twins made a move towards the creature, but stopped when the sword was again pointed at them.  
  
'I will leave you now; I have a task at hand. But we will meet again, that is for sure.' Again Morchaintdur bowed in a mocking gesture to them, let the sword fall down to the ground and turned on his heels to leave them for the horses.  
  
In unison the twins draw their bows and simultaneously brought an arrow up on the bowstring. Both aimed for the back of their father.  
  
But none of them was able to shoot at him. Their bows trembled in their hands, while tears run freely down their faces. They were not able to shoot at their father, even if it was no more than a shell who now hosted an ancient evil being.  
  
They had lost their mother and the last thing they wanted was to lose their father too. As long as the spirit of Elrond still lingered in his body, trapped inside but still there, there was hope.  
  
Both knew that it was not their father anymore. They had watched him just mere minutes before, throwing a hidden dagger into Glorfindel's chest, taking the warrior's weapon from the limp hands and cutting the elf's throat. This was nothing that their father would do, but he had done it.  
  
Their fears were confirmed when they had cast a look into his eyes, the former warm brown eyes, that showed only pride and warmth for his sons, were now lifeless black orbs filled with hate and malice. For the moment they did not care about the well being of their old friend, the only thing that counted for them was their father, or better, what has become of him.  
  
They would do all that was in their power to protect their family, but killing the body of their father, when there could be still a chance to bring him back, was no option for them. Not now.  
  
They would find a way to bring him back and get rid of this evil.  
  
Lowering their bows they watched as Morchaintdur mounted one of the reluctant horses and left them alone. They could still hear him laugh when he was out of sight.  
  
Meanwhile Aragorn had tried to examine the wounds Glorfindel had received. The dagger protruding from the chest was the first thing he noticed, but looking up the body he saw the wound at the neck. Blood pulsated out of it with the rhythm of a faint heartbeat.  
  
Without thinking he shoved a finger into the wound to feel for the artery and found just a little scratch in it. He carefully pressed on it to close the wound so that Glorfindel would not bleed to death in a short time.  
  
When the bleeding stopped he noticed for the first time that the blade had opened a gash in the windpipe as well. From the look of it, it had been the windpipe that had taken the major force of the blow, so that the artery had only received a scratch. Now the old warrior was still breathing but his breath entered and left the body through the gaping hole in his neck. Aragorn did not know what to do. He had never witnessed such an injury to be survived, but this elf still lived.  
  
He paid no attention to what was happening around him, his focus was only at the elf lying in front of him. He tried to hold the windpipe free of blood, so that Glorfindel would not choke on his own blood.  
  
He had heard the voice of his father, and when he noticed the different sound to it, he looked up only to be greeted with the sight of the tip of a sword pointed in his direction.  
  
Aragorn heard the statement that was given to him by the being. It made no sense to him, until he remembered his own behaviour a few days in the past, when he had drawn the pictures of the red moon with his own blood.  
  
That had been a message? He could only remember the pictures of the moon, but he did not know that there had been a message behind them, nor did he know what the message was.  
  
He watched the scene unfolding in front of his eyes, not knowing what he should say or do, he only sat there in silence and tried to hold the life in the elf lying beside him on the forest ground, looking up to his father. When Aragorn saw that Elrond, or better, Morchaintdur, prepared to leave, the only thing he could do was watch, as his brothers raised their bows to end the life of their father.  
  
He could not let go of his hold on the artery. He needed to hold the pressure.  
  
So he sat and watched, not able to move or utter a single word, while the form of his father left the clearing and the twins dropped their bows.  
  
When Aragorn felt movement under his fingers he turned his attention back to his patient. Glorfindel's eyelids fluttered and his mouth opened but no sound could be heard. Then the elf opened his eyes.  
  
The eyes were dark with pain and searched around until the gaze fixed on Aragorn.  
  
'Hush, don't move and do not try to speak!' Aragorn commanded. 'You are very seriously injured and I want to keep you alive. If you understand me, blink one time.'  
  
Glorfindel closed his eyes and opened them again.  
  
'Good, we will bandage your wounds and bring you back to Rivendell. You will see, in a few days all will be well again.' Aragorn tried to express confidence in his little speech.  
  
If you will survive at last but that, he only added in his thoughts.  
  
Turning on his heels Aragorn tried to find out what his brothers were doing. He found them still frozen at the same place where they had been when Morchaintdur had left. Both looked into the direction where their father had disappeared.  
  
One look at them confirmed Aragorn's worst fears.  
  
They were broken, both of them. Their faces frozen in shock, pain and despair; their eyes, even though they were filled with tears, were dull and lifeless. It took Aragorn only one blink of an eye to realize that they would not be able to help him in their current state of mind.  
  
But he needed their help, for he could not tend to Glorfindel without them. He would need both of his hands to bandage the chest wound, and by now one of his hand was occupied with the task to hold the artery closed.  
  
Aragorn felt the body under his hands relax and looked down.Glorfindel had fallen back into the dark confines of unconsciousness.  
  
'Elladan, Elrohir, please help me!' He shouted out.  
  
No reaction.  
  
He tried again.  
  
'You must help me. If we want to know what had happened here and when we want to find out how to help father, we first have to help Glorfindel!'  
  
This time he broke through the wall of despair. Two heads turned simultaneously into his direction. Lifeless eyes once again found a focus in the ranger's eyes.  
  
'Please, don't let him die here. I need both of you here. I cannot handle this alone, please.' Aragorn begged his brothers.  
  
Aragorn did not know whether it was his plea for help or the sight of the elf lord who was slowly bleeding to death, but his brothers came to life again.  
  
Elladan fell on his knees beside the fallen warrior, whom he had known since the day of his birth. He had been their teacher, their accomplice in many pranks, but the most important of all, he was their friend. He reached out with a trembling hand and brushed away a wayward strand of hair from the other's pale face, before he turned his attention to the wound in the others chest, where the dagger still was imbedded in the flesh.  
  
Elrohir had returned to their horses, and led them now over to their little group. Kneeling down beside his twin he stared down at his father's old friend and advisor. None of them spoke but it was not necessary. Their healer's instincts took over, when their minds could not work properly.  
  
Their hands knew what had to be done and they mechanically started to work on their friend. Aragorn was not able to move, his hands occupied in the task to hold the pressure on the wound and to hold the cut in the windpipe free of the running blood.  
  
The twins worked around him, and for some minutes nothing could be heard besides the ragged breath of the wounded elf, the tearing of clothes which were needed as bandages and the slowly returning sounds of the night forest. Aragorn could feel the air pass his fingers every time Glorfindel took a shivering breath.  
  
He knew that time was running out for the ancient warrior, they had to bring him back to Imladris as soon as possible, where the healers could take care of him and tend his wounds properly.  
  
Lost in his thoughts it took some time before he realized that the twins had stopped to bandage Glorfindel's chest. Turning his attention back to his brothers, Aragorn noticed that they were looking down on the fallen elf, both with an unreadable expression on their faces.  
  
Elladan opened his mouth, but shut it again without saying a word. He coughed and tried again.  
  
'Can someone tell me what we have just witnessed? What had happened here?'  
  
'I do not know.' Aragorn answered. 'The only one who knows lies here and is not able to speak.'  
  
'First of all we have to bring him back home so that Ada.....' Aragorn stopped mid sentence, when the realization hit him that their father would not be there to tend to Glorfindel.  
  
That was something he had never ever thought of. Elrond had always been there, caring for them, teaching them, scolding them when they deserved it, and patching them up, countless times, when they would return home after one of their adventures.  
  
He had lost one family and that had hurt so much, even when he had not spent much time with his blood father. Aragorn tried to remember the face of his real father, but the only face he saw in his mind was that of Elrond. He knew not if he could handle the loss of his second and only father he had ever known.  
  
He took a deep breath to calm down and tried to concentrate on what they had to do next.  
  
Aragorn turned his head to the twins. 'Could you help me to get him on the horse? I will take Glorfindel with me. I cannot release my hold on the artery.'  
  
The twins nodded and Elladan got up to his feet and whistled to their horses. The horses walked over to him and he urged Aragorn's horse to kneel down so that it would be easier to mount.  
  
Elladan came back to them and together they lifted the unconscious body of Glorfindel up from the ground, carefully, not to aggravate the wounds more than necessary.  
  
When the wounded was seated securely in front of Aragorn, the twins mounted also and shortly after they were on their way home.  
  
It would take them close to two hours at that speed and Aragorn hoped that it would be fast enough. He could still feel the trickling of blood under his pressing fingers, but at one time of their journey he had the feeling that it had slowed a little.  
  
He wished that he had his pack with him, so that he could stitch the wound, but his pack with all the healing supplies was lying in his room, together with all his other things he usually took with him on his journeys. So the only thing he could do right then was to hold the pressure and hope that it would be enough.  
  
As long as he could feel the elf's heartbeat under his fingers all would be well.  
  
When they arrived at the Last Homely House, Aragorn was exhausted, both mentally and physically, from the task to keep Glorfindel alive. He had not spoken to his brothers the whole time; he had only watched their tense backs and he had not to be a wizard to know that they were brooding about the night's events. He could not remember when he last felt so relieved to see the gates of his home, than this night.  
  
The guards had seen their approach and by noticing the horse without rider, they had alarmed the healers.  
  
So they were awaited by two of the healers in the courtyard at the bottom of the stairs. Tharlith and Ladaurë walked up to them and held out their hands to take over the still unconscious Glorfindel. When they had him in a secure grip they requested Aragorn to release his hold on the artery. Tharlith assured him that they would take care of the elf and that all would be well as long as he releases his grip.  
  
It took some time until the words reached his sluggish mind, but at last he released his hold on Glorfindel. He wanted to shout at them that nothing would be well, as long as their father was not here with them, but no words left his mouth.  
  
Exhaustion took over when the tension left his body and he slumped over the back of his horse. He had no energy left to hold him upright. He was tired beyond believe; every muscle in his body ached and he could swear that even his bones were screaming of fatigue.  
  
He toppled off his horse but strong arms prevented him from kissing the ground. Dimly he was aware that he was carried through the house and soon he felt the familiar touch of his bed. Forcing his eyes into focus, /'When did I have them closed?/ he wondered, watching Elladan pulling the boots off his feet and covering him with the soft comforter.  
  
'Sleep little brother! We will talk when you wake up.' He heard a soft whisper. Elladan sounded so much like their father that Aragorn thought for a moment that it was indeed Elrond who had tugged him into his bed.  
  
His eyes refused to stay open any longer and so he relaxed and let the sleep he needed take over.  
  
When Aragorn woke up, he first could not recall where he was and what had happened, but shortly after, the events of last night came crushing back into his memory. He jumped off the bed, put his boots on and stormed out of his room.  
  
His first way led him to the healing chambers. He had to know how Glorfindel fared. When he turned the last corner he saw one of the healers leaving one room. That must be the one Glorfindel was in.  
  
'How is he? He is still alive, is he?' He shouted out. Tharlith turned to face the ranger, a night full of work and the vigil laid behind him and the elf's features showed clearly the fatigue he felt.  
  
'Yes, young one, he is alive... for now....' Tharlith told the ranger. 'He is still unconscious and he shows no signs of awakening.'  
  
Tharlith eyed the ranger curiously. 'Could you tell me what had happened? The cut he suffers from was not from an orc weapon or another foul creature. These wounds were caused by an elvish blade. The twins refused to answer my questions and Lord Elrond is nowhere to be found.'  
  
Aragorn watched the healer carefully, wondering if he should tell him the truth. He decided that he could not tell the healer what had happened. He would talk with his brothers and they would decide together what they would tell the others.  
  
So, by now he would not lie to Tharlith but he would also not tell him the entire truth.  
  
'Lord Elrond had to leave Imladris last night for a very important task. I do not know when he will return. I'm sorry, that is all I know.' Aragorn averted his eyes, finding the tips of his boots very interesting at the moment.  
  
The healer sensed that there was more behind the words, but he did not probe. He had a patient to care for, and he was sure that soon all would be revealed.  
  
Aragorn lifted his eyes from the floor and asked with a little smile in his lips. 'Would you allow me to visit Glorfindel? Just for a second, please. I promise I will not disturb him. I only have to see if he is fine.'  
  
'You can visit him for a short time, and I think you cannot disturb him. He refuses to wake up; we have tried many things to awake him but nothing worked. For me it looks like he is fading due to grief, but he is the victim, so why should he die of grief?' Tharlith was curious. He could see that the human was hiding something, but he would not ask more. In time he would come to know what had happened to Glorfindel. 'Talk to him, He can hear you, that is for sure, maybe it helps to get him out of his pain. Should something happen, call, I'm just in the next room.'  
  
With these last words Tharlith turned and left the ranger alone with his thoughts.  
  
'Wait, just one question, can you tell me where my brothers are?'  
  
Tharlith inclined his head and frowned. 'The last time I saw them was hours ago, when they left us to our treatment of Glorfindel. I think it was Elladan who said that they want to go to Lord Elrond's study. Maybe they are still there.'  
  
Aragorn thanked the healer with a slight nod of his head and turned around to open the door. He could not see the bed from his place, but he heard the raspy, ragged breaths clearly.  
  
Approaching the bed silently, he looked down on Glorfindel, who lay there, his face as pale as fresh fallen snow, with white bandages tightly wrapped around his chest and his neck.  
  
Aragorn bent down and brushed lightly over the other's forehead.  
  
'I do not know if you can hear me, but I think you can. I only want to let you know that it was not your fault. Nobody knows what happened to father, except you, and we need you here to tell us what you know. Don't you dare to leave us alone here, my brothers need your advice while Father is gone and for me I have to say that I would miss your pranks, you still have to teach me a lot of them. Who else should drive Erestor to insanity if not you? So don't you dare to sneak away like a coward. You are none, so please stay with us.  
  
'And see, the last time you died Mandos sent you back, I think he does not want you in his halls. Maybe he has watched you too long and wants to make sure that his halls are safe from your mischief. So spare him the work to send you back again.'  
  
Not expecting an answer, he squeezed the elf's hand reassuringly and left the room in search for his brothers. He made his way up to the study where Tharlith had guessed that he would find the twins. He knocked at the door, but no response came, so he pushed open the door.  
  
Both of his brothers were there. Each of them occupied his usual seat in front of Elrond's desk and both held a piece of parchment in their hands.  
  
Closing the door Aragorn walked up to them. Elrohir was the first who took notice of the ranger and lifted his tearstained face up to him. He rose to his feet and grabbed a letter which laid on the desk. Aragorn noticed two more letters there, but from where he was, he could not read to whom they were addressed and he did not ask.  
  
Elrohir handed the letter over to Aragorn. 'This one's for you. Father had left letters for each one of us.' Gesturing to the two remaining letters he added. 'One is for Arwen, and the last is addressed to Glorfindel.'  
  
Aragorn grabbed the letter and sat down on the couch. He turned the letter over and over in his hands not daring to open it, afraid of what he would read in there. He heard Elrohir taking his seat again and looked up to meet his brother's eyes.  
  
'Just read it, if you like we can leave you alone and meet you later. We will have to discuss a lot.'  
  
'WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DISCUSS?'  
  
Elladan's sudden outburst startled both, elf and human.  
  
With an enraged cry Elladan jumped on his feet, his letter crumpled in his fist, whirled around and whipped away everything from their father's desk.  
  
The piles of reports and the books all landed on the floor. The inkbottles shattered in thousand pieces and the ink sprawled over the carpet and the papers.  
  
For seconds no one moved, Elladan stood motionless in front of the now empty desk, breathing heavily. Then he broke down on his knees crying like none of them had ever witnessed before. Aragorn and Elrohir rushed over to their brother and took him into a tight embrace, not only for his sake but also for their own as well.  
  
They needed no words, for their tears spoke more than words could express. They clung to each other as if the others were a lifeline, which was the only thing that would keep them from drowning. No other sound than the cries of Elladan and the sobs of his brothers could be heard for a time.  
  
They did not know how long they sat there but finally the cries eased down until all of them sobbed quietly. Elrohir was the first who broke the embrace. He sat back on his heels and whipped away the tears on his face.  
  
Elrohir rubbed soothing circles over his twin's trembling back and looked over to the ranger. 'Aragorn why don't you read father's letter now? Later we will talk about everything and what we should do now.'  
  
The ranger looked up with red-rimmed eyes and nodded. He broke the seal, took a deep breath and started to read.  
  
TBC

**To my reviewers:**

**That Undomiel Chick:** glares at the sword. Hey I'm writing as fast as I can. :o)

But thanx for the cookies, they saved my days. And see no cliffie at the end! LOL

**grumpy: **thanx for coming back again

**Deanna: **((waves fresh air to Deanna)) wake up here is the next one. ;o) Welcome to my little insanity.I feel flattered that you took notice of me. Thank you

**Beling: **you can come up from the floor, I think it is not very comfortable to read from there. LOL

**bill the pony 2:** thank you for coming back, I'm glad you liked it.

**Thank you all for reading and reviewing**

**Thanx to all who have me on their favourite or Authors alert list. I feel very honoured**

**((huggles))**


	8. not a chapter, sorry

Just a short note to let you know that I have not abandoned Moonlight and Shadow.  
  
Chapter 8 will be a little delayed due to some incidents that happened to it. Sometimes I think that chapter is cursed. LOL  
  
First I lost most of my notes and I had to redo it.

Then I sent it to my editor who lost it.

I wanted to send it again and this dammed thing did not want to be sent.

There were more then one mail delivery failure messages. _sigh_

Then I got a note from my beta that she will not be able to edit it, due some family matters.

I can understand and respect her wish.

My second beta is on vacation, but will return on Sunday.

Hopefully chapter 8 will be up someday next week. I'm sorry for the delay and I hope that you will bear with me.  
  
Thank you for your patience and thanks for reading to all who still have me on their favourite and alert list.


	9. Chapter 8

Here we are, faster than expected. g

you have waited so long and so patiently so I give you the chapter without rambling around.

A/Ns are at the end of it, should you be able to read after the words TBC. veg

Disc: nothings mine, as usual

Thanks: San for editing, erasing my horrible grammar mistakes and helping me with suggestions.

I really needed them.

Reviews are always welcome. hint

**Moonlight and Shadow**

**Chapter 8**

Aragorn sat at a library window and watched the clouds passing by. In his hand he held the letter he received a few hours ago. He read it over and over again, but there were no answers to find in it. Now he sat here in silence to think about all the things Elrond had written to him about fulfilling his destiny, his fatherly pride for Aragorn, the love he had for his human son and so much more.  
  
Elrond had also written about Morchaintdur, and what this thing had done millennia ago. And that it had been his choice to die by the hand of one of his eldest friends. In the letter, Elrond begged him not to blame Glorfindel for what he had done and Aragorn guessed that the same words were also written in the letters his brothers had received.  
  
Knowing now what had led to the tragedy in the woods Aragorn knew that they could blame no one except Morchaintdur. The ranger had visited Glorfindel shortly before he had gone to the library to read in peace and quiet. The warrior was still unconscious, but the healers had assured him that it would take at least a few more days before he would wake.  
  
Aragorn heard the inevitable whispers all over the halls and corridors, which silenced when he neared them. He knew what was on everybody's mind, for it was on his too.  
  
Rumours had spread like wildfire throughout the valley and Aragorn knew that soon Elladan, as the new Lord of The Last Homely House, had to speak to the people and tell them what had happened the previous night.  
  
With a sigh the ranger turned his gaze back from the window and left the library to head for the study. It was time to talk about the consequences of last night's events. On his way down to the study, he met a few elves. Each one eyed him suspiciously but no one addressed him.  
  
Short before he arrived at his destination, he met one of the servants and asked that someone should bring some food to the study. He knew that his brothers had not eaten, but they needed the nourishment as well as he did.  
  
When he entered the room, he found his brothers still sitting in silence the way he had left them.  
  
Aragorn did not know whether they had spoken to one another or not. But from the look of it, he was sure that they had not uttered a single word.  
  
He sat down on his usual place and stared at the vacant seat behind the desk. This empty space was the visible evidence that they had no choice than to solve this threat alone. This time Elrond would not be here for them: not with his wisdom, nor his knowledge and foresight or with his healing abilities.  
  
They were alone.  
  
After some moments of uncomfortable silence he took a deep breath. "What are we going to do now?!" The ranger winced, for his voice seemed so loud that he thought it could be heard down in the courtyard.  
  
Elladan was the first who answered. "I do not know... I know that father wants us to rule Imladris... but he is not dead and I do not want to believe that there is no chance to get him back." "We could send a message to grandmother...." Elrohir threw in hesitantly, interrupted by a soft knock on the door. A servant carried a tray with some food and wine and placed it on the desk.  
  
They thanked her and waited in silence until she had left the room again. "Father had forbidden that we make contact to grandmother or Mithrandir. You know why! He had explained it in his letter." Elladan reacted strongly.)  
  
"So what other options do we have? I for myself will not sit idly around here while father is somewhere out there, possessed by....by some evil from ancient times." Aragorn jumped off his seat and started pacing through the study. "There must be a way to destroy this being without killing the host."  
  
Elrohir watched his human brother closely. "Could you please take a seat? Your pacing drives me insane!"  
  
"I can think better while moving, and by now we have a lot to think of." Aragorn stopped and ticked off his fingers. "One... we have that ancient evil, Morchaintdur, sent by Morgoth, who is now in possession of father's knowledge and Vilya."  
  
"Two....we are not allowed to send for help from Galadriel or Mithrandir."  
  
"Three... the only one who could tell us how this "Thing" could be defeated, lies unconscious and unable to speak in one of the healing chambers."  
  
"Four...."  
  
"No, Glorfindel is not the only one!" Elladan's voice was a mere whisper.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Have you missed an important part of the story? Someone else had been there, the last time Morchaintdur had been defeated." Elladan watched his brothers expectantly. Elrohir's eyes lit with recognition.  
  
"Thranduil..." Elladan continued hopefully. "He had been there too and at the moment he is the only one we can get answers from."  
  
"That means that we must go to Lasgalen and talk to him," Elrohir agreed. "I'll go and pack, in a short time we can be on our way." While Elrohir spoke, he stood up and made his first step to leave.  
  
"STOP!" Aragorn shouted out. He folded his arms in front of his chest and glared at his brothers. "What do you think you are doing?"  
  
"Leaving!" Elladan grumbled with a frown. He knew that look in Aragorn's eyes. The human's stubbornness got the better of him.  
  
"No, you can not leave," Aragorn said.  
  
"Why not?" Elladan grumbled his patience growing thinner with every second.  
  
"You are now the lords of Imladris! You have duties to fulfil. As long as Glorfindel is not in shape to take over some of the tasks, you will have to stay here. I'm dispensable this time. I will go, for my pack is ready and I can leave in a very short time."  
  
"That we are in charge here until father comes back, means not that we will be confined in the house. Father had travelled countless times and we can do this as well," Elladan muttered upset.  
  
"Not this time! The people are confused and frightened. They do not know what happened last night. Do not tell me that you haven't noticed the strange behaviour of the people. And now rumours are spread all over Imladris like wildfire."  
  
The twins had the grace to look dumbfounded, for they had not left the study since their arrival last night.  
  
"The people need you now! No matter what you feel you need to do. You both have to be here for the people. Have you forgotten everything father taught us?"  
  
Elladan flinched like he had been slapped across the face. "DO NOT TALK TO ME LIKE I'M A CHILD! I have forgotten nothing. Do not blame me for caring more for my father than for the others! You may not care, but he is my father. I have lost my mother and I do not want to lose him too."  
  
The moment those words had left his mouth Elladan regretted them.  
  
Aragorn's face had lost its colour; he was as white as a piece of paper. "If you remember, I have lost my family once, and I do not want to go through this a second time."  
  
With these words he turned on his heels and stormed out of the room.  
  
"WAIT!...I did not...." The door cut off Elladan's voice when Aragorn slammed it shut behind him.  
  
...mean it this way." Elladan finished his sentences unheard by the ranger.  
  
Elrohir glared daggers at his brother, arms folded in front of his chest, unconsciously mirroring Aragorn's posture just minutes before. "One time...only one time I want to see that you think first about what you say, before you open your mouth. By the Valar, why don't you use your brain like it is meant to? Why do you always burst out with totally misplaced and unnecessary statements like that? Have you seen the look in his eyes? Do you know how deep you hurt him? Do you? Sometimes I think that you have not more brain in your head than an orc!" Elrohir nearly shouted out the last sentence.  
  
Elladan gasped, never before had he been grounded by his twin in that way. For a second he thought that it was their father speaking to him. He opened his mouth to retort, but then was silenced by Elrohir, who had not missed his brother's attempt to speak.  
  
"No, you listen to me now, Aragorn is right, and you know it. And you know that father is to him as important as he is for us. Do I have to remind you that he is human? One day he will die and unlike us he will not have the chance to meet father or us in Valinor. He has only limited time with us and he knows so much, but you seemingly do not."  
  
Elladan looked to his brother with a little lopsided grin. "That was the longest speech I have ever heard from you." This time it was Elladan who stopped his brother from speaking. "I know what I did, and I knew that it was wrong the minute I said it, but it happened and I can not take it back, all I can do is to apologize."  
  
"So there is still a brain in your head." Elrohir stated dryly. "Come, we should go both and make sure that the child is not leaving without proper supplies and more important, that you let him know, that you were wrong."  
  
"Do not let him hear this, he thinks he is an adult."  
  
"Oh yes, Aragorn is an adult and I'm the white wizard."  
  
The twins grinned and left the study, making their way upstairs to talk to their brother before he leaves.  
  
In his room Aragorn stuffed a few more items in his backpack; still sad about Elladan's words. It had hurt him deeply. He knew that his brother had wanted to call him back; he had heard the last words before leaving the room, but he did not want to hear what Elladan had to say.  
  
When he had stormed up the stairs to his room, he could barely see the steps. The tears running over his face were blurring his vision. Did his brother really think so low of him? How could Elladan think that he did not care about their father?  
  
He was not angry with Elladan, he could not, because he understood him so well. He needed no apologize or explanation, he only needed a warm brotherly embrace and their blessing before he left. Elrond was the only father he had known and to lose him would destroy him. He did not want to deliver Elrond to Morchaintdur without a fight.  
  
He wanted him back, the way he had been before last night. He wanted the healer, the friend, the tutor, but most of all he wants his father back to his own self. He would do all in his might to succeed.  
  
With a heavy sigh he closed his backpack, took a last look around to assure himself that he has forgotten nothing and headed for the door. He would try to talk to his brothers; he could not leave without clearing the air between them.  
  
He left the room his pack shouldered, his sword and bow in his hand. When he closed the door he felt the presence of someone behind him and turned around. The twins had approached him in their silent way and both stood now beside him. Elladan looked him in the eyes and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Aragorn could feel the uneasiness in the elder twin, but said nothing and only watched Elladan closely.  
  
Elladan cleared his throat. "Estel, I...I'm sorry. I should not have talked to you like I did, please forgive me."  
  
Aragorn opened his mouth to answer but Elladan bade him to remain silent by raising a hand. "Please let me first finish my speech, before I do not dare to do so. I know that you love father as we do and please believe me that all the things I said were meant the way they sounded, at least the moment I spoke them. I was rash and I should have thought about the words before they were spoken, but the last hours have not left much of my patience. I can only ask you for your forgiveness."  
  
This time Aragorn was not interrupted when he started to speak. "There is nothing to forgive. It was childish to leave the room the way I did. But your words hurt more than you could imagine. Yes, you have been rash but that is understandable after all we have gone through this night. No one of us can think properly and we are not in our best moods this day, but it will not help when we talk about whose fault it was. You know as well as I do that we would not come to a conclusion, and in the end we would fight it out in a pillow war. We do not have the time for that."  
  
With a small smile Elladan hugged his human brother close to him. "Sometimes I think you are the wisest of us, even when you are a child."  
  
Elrohir winced when he heard the last words. Aragorn pulled himself out of Elladan's embrace. "You know that I'm an adult, so please stop calling me a child."  
  
"Yes, in human standards, but for me you will always be our little toddler." Elladan easily dodged the blow that was aimed for his head. "Come now, little one, let's see if you have packed properly."  
  
"Elladan, I'm 48 years old, I am a ranger and I know perfectly well how to pack my supplies," Aragorn groaned. But he knew his overprotective brothers too well: they would not allow him to leave without checking his pack again.  
  
So he handed over his pack, leaned back on the wall and watched his brothers rummaging through his belongings. "I knew you would forget something!" Elrohir shouted out, a triumphant smile on his face.  
  
"What do you mean, I have forgotten something?" Aragorn looked narrowing over the contents of his pack, now sprawled over the floor. "I have an extra blanket, extra clothes, my warm coat, food enough, healing supplies. What, prey tell me, have I forgotten."  
  
"Where are the healing herbs? I can find none of them in your pack and knowing you, you will need them."  
  
Wordlessly Aragorn pushed aside his overcoat and showed them the little pouch attached to his belt.  
  
"Is that all?" Elladan shouted out. "You as troublemaker, alone on your way to Mirkwood to meet another, even bigger troublemaker there, and this little pouch is all you take with you? You can't be serious."  
  
Aragorn grumbled and muttered something under his breath.  
  
"What?" Elrohir had heard the words clearly but he wanted the human to speak it out loud.  
  
"You heard me, I said: We are no troublemakers." Aragorn burst out, earning a light laughter from both of the twins.  
  
"Do we have to remind you of the countless times you dragged one another back home, injured, and poisoned or in your case sick? I do not think I have to, you know that for sure."  
  
The ranger kneeled down on the floor and started to assemble his belongings again, constantly muttering something about "mother hens", "overprotective" "mothering" and "adult".  
  
The twins grinned at each other but none of them said a word.  
  
Picking up the last piece and pushing it back into his backpack, Aragorn noticed a shadow coming in his vision. A pouch dangled in front of his eyes. He looked up and met the sparkling eyes of Elladan, holding the pouch on its string. "You should take this with you, it is Athelas." Noticing the hesitation in Aragorn's eyes he added, "We have enough left, so take it, for you will surely need it."  
  
"Thank you, I will bring it back, because I will not need it." With these words the ranger attached the pouch with its precious content securely on his belt like he had the other.  
  
Then he gathered his pack from the floor and grabbed his sword and the bow. "I'm ready!"  
  
Shortly after, they reached the stables. The twins watched the ranger readying his horse. None of them spoke; it was not the right time for light bantering, as they would usually do.  
  
When Aragorn had secured his packs on the saddle, he turned to face his brothers. With a sigh he embraced them both. "I promise I will be back as soon as possible. Take care of our home and make sure that Glorfindel will be fine. Maybe you will be able to find something in father's journals about Morchaintdur that could help us defeat him."  
  
He took the reins and led the horse out of the stables to the gates. There the twins embraced their brother one last time and held him tight for what it seemed a far too short time before they released him. "Take care of you, little one, have a safe journey and return in one piece."  
  
Aragorn mounted and with a last greeting nod he was on his way. Reaching the bridge, he turned and waved his brothers a goodbye before he disappeared behind a turn of the path.  
  
The twins stood in the entrance for long minutes before they turned and walked back to the house and to their duties as the interim rulers of Imladris.

* * *

Aragorn reined his horse to a halt and whipped a sleeve over his dripping nose. He had proceeded faster than expected and now found himself close to the outskirts of Mirkwood.  
  
In this speed, he would reach the palace in two more days. He had expected that the high pass would be thickly covered with snow, but besides the really deep temperatures there was nothing to be concerned of. It felt a little odd, but nevertheless he appreciated his good fortune.  
  
He had not the time to take the long way round, taking the risk to ride over the mountains despite the time of year despite the expected harsh weather.  
  
The matter that the pass was relatively safe and free of snow had disturbed him as well as the fact that he had not encountered orcs, wargs or wolves. In fact, nothing had hunted or attacked him. Not that he wished to be attacked or caught in a deep snow drift, but this was eerie. He had seen signs of orc dwellings and found tracks that lead over the mountains but they were days old. He could not imagine were the beasts had all gone. It was like they had withdrawn from their usual habitats.  
  
Nevertheless, the ranger was aware of the fact his good fortune might not last, and he still had a long way to go. With a heavy sigh he wrapped his overcoat and the blanket more closely around him before he urged his horse forward again. Aragorn was eager to reach the palace grounds as soon as possible. He knew that there would wait a hot bath, a roaring fireplace, warm food, a soft bed and hopefully his best friend for him.  
  
He hoped that Legolas was home and not on one of his long border patrols. He yearned for some light-hearted banters and long night talks, but the ranger knew that his mission would overshadow the reunion. Aragorn was bearer of ill tidings and he did not know how Thranduil would react to the news.  
  
In the early evening hours of the seventh day of his journey, he reached the huge gates of the woodland palace. Aragorn had noticed the presence of some wood elves when he had made his way through the forest, but no one stopped him. He was well known to the people of Mirkwood and they had accepted him a long time ago. He always felt comfortable around this place.  
  
But now he felt an uneasy tingle in the back of his mind and shifted uncomfortable in his saddle. He could feel that something was wrong but he could not put a finger on it. The guards at the doors greeted him with a slight nod but there was no smile on their faces like all the other times he had arrived.  
  
Reaching the stables he dismounted, stretched languidly, untied his pack and handed the horse over to a stable hand that had appeared out of the shadows of the stable door. He padded the faithful mare once more on her neck to bid her a good res. With a frown he noticed that the stable hand looked no better than the guards.  
  
There was something amiss here.  
  
He addressed the stable hand but the only answer he got was a quiet nod towards the palace. Aragorn grabbed his pack and made his way up to the palace. Like every time, he visit Mirkwood, he admired the craftsman's work of the stone palace.  
  
It always astounded him that someone, even dwarves, was able to bring stone alive. The pillars of the palace were carved as huge Mallorn trees, their branches reaching up to the higher levels of the palace and seemingly supporting the balconies of the upper rooms.  
  
He thought that he could see every single leave in the carving and sometimes Aragorn had the imagination that he could see the leaves moving in the gentle breeze. He knew that this was only an illusion but combined with the carvings on the walls that showed so many different trees, he always had the impression to enter a forest and not a building made of stone.  
  
Entering the great entrance hall he noticed the eerie silence and emptiness of the place. Usually there would be greeted with laughter and songs, which would emerge from the different halls and rooms.  
  
But now everything was quiet and combined with the odd behaviour of the elves he had met outside, the situation made him feel very uncomfortable. He quickened his pace and winced when he heard the loud sound of his steps echoing through the hallways. The whole palace seemed abandoned, but why should the wood elves leave the palace and live their lives outside the palace doors as usual?  
  
Coming up to the doors of the throne room he noticed that even the guards here had gone. Usually two elves would guard the room and announce visitors to the king, but not his time. Aragorn unconsciously gripped his sword, for he felt a sense of foreboding wash over him.  
  
The place had not been attacked; there was no sign of an attack inside or outside the palace. But why should the wood elves abandon the palace and the royal family? They would do that not willingly, so someone had ordered them to leave.  
  
He hesitated in front of the huge doors and took a deep breath before he knocked on the door. The sound reverberated through the hall but he got no answer. Was nobody inside? Have Thranduil and Legolas left their home?  
  
No, the guards would have surely told him that. He would not find out by standing in front of that door. So he took the handle, pushed the door open and entered the hall. The hall was dark, the sun had set by now and only a few candles illuminated the room.  
  
Usually countless candles would light up the hall, but today most of the hall was dark. There were only a few spots of light and Aragorn noticed a lone, silent figure on the outskirts of one of the spots.  
  
The person took no notice of the fact that someone had entered the place. From what Aragorn could make out from the distance, the only things moving were the hands of the person. They were constantly moving back and forth, back and forth, always the same movements, brushing over something. What he held, Aragorn could not see.  
  
He moved up to the bench and by coming closer he recognized the person as Thranduil. "My lord?!" Aragorn bowed, but the king showed no sign of recognition.  
  
"My lord, I was sent from Imladris. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I bring ill news and the Lord of Imladris seeks your council."  
  
"What could I know what the mighty lord of Imladris does not know?" The voice of Thranduil lacked its usual sound and came out as a hoarse whisper.  
  
"My Lord, Morchaintdur has returned and..."  
  
"I know!" The king still refused to turn around to face the ranger.  
  
"You know? How? Why?" Aragorn felt the knot, which had grown in his stomach tighten with every word the king spoke.  
  
"Yes...I know... Why? .... Because three days ago he has claimed his first victim."  
  
Thranduil finally turned around and Aragorn could see for the first time what the king held in his lap. It was a tunic he knew so well as his own, but now it was barely recognizable as a tunic. It was shred in pieces and tainted with so much blood that the fabric's colour nearly disappeared under it.  
  
Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again. That was when he noticed another thing. Wrapped in the remnants of the tunic was a one of Legolas' familiar blades. It was broken shortly under the hilt and bloodstained like the tunic. But what made him nearly gag was that which was wound around the ivory hilt. First he thought that it was some kind of rope but taking a closer look he recognized it as what it was.  
  
It was a fistful of once golden hair, but now dark red with dried blood. It was not the fact that there was a bundle of bloodied hair that made him choke but the fact that the hair hat not been simply cut off, but cut off together with the skin.  
  
Now Aragorn felt not only the knot in his stomach but a fist which clenched his heart. He feared to ask, because he already knew the answer to his question. But maybe he was wrong.  
  
/Valar, please, no...not him.../  
  
This could only be a nightmare, a terrible cruel nightmare.  
  
"My lord, who was the victim?" He finally managed to croak out.  
  
"My son...," Thranduil groaned. "This monster has taken my son!"  
  
TBC 

**Reviewers:**

**Deana: upps that was not what I wanted to do. picks up Deana from the floor and builds up a pile of cushions around her.**

**That Undomiel Chick: Thanks for the cookies, they helped a lot. you are always welcome to give me more of them. g **

**grumpy: would you believe me, that I sometimes wish, I had chosen another name for the villain? g **

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**Aragornwriter: You do not know how much such a review from you means to me, thank you. **

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**Now to the difficult part:**

**There will be no update before september, I'm sorry that I have to leave you with such a cliffie for such a long time, but as I said before, I barely find the time to write, thanks to a pile of work and constant overtime working.**

** runs and hides behind her pet balrog**

**See you next month**

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	10. Chapter 9

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sorry for the long delay but my muse decided to go on strike, and partially she still is. I do not know what I did to her. LOL

Should anybody of you know how I can lure her back to work, let me know. She is really a lazy beast.

**Thanks to all my faithfull and wonderful reviewers and many hugs. Without your support I would not write a single word.**

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**Moonlight and Shadow**

Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to the Tolkien Estates.

I only borrow them for a short time.

The story and the characters you do not know from the books are mine, please do not use them without permission. Thank you.

Spoiler: for my other stories "Glorfindel's Fall", "To be a father" and the hopefully one day finished "Alone" LOL

Feedback and constructive critics are always welcome.

So tell me if you like it or not.

Chapter 9

Waiting.

Waiting was all they had done for the past days and what they were still doing.

Waiting for a message from Aragorn.

Waiting for Glorfindel to wake up.

It was not all they had done of course, but it felt like they did nothing else.

They had searched through the library for some kind of information about Morchaintdur, but had found nothing. However, there were still piles of books and scrolls to look through.

They had sent a messenger bird to Lorien to ask Glorfindel's family to return home without adding details. They only had written that he had been wounded in a fight.

It had surprised them when the bird returned, that it carried a message from the Lady herself, which told them that Yáviëwen and the children had already left Lorien two weeks ago and that they should arrive much earlier than expected. They were not looking forward to telling Glorfindel's wife and children what had happened.

The warrior had been awake briefly over the last two days, but until now he had not uttered a word. He had only looked at them with so much pain in his eyes that they had not known what to say or do besides tending to his wounds. They had talked to him, yes, but he refused to listen to their pleas. All they could hope now was that his family would be able to draw him back from his path to death.

It seemed that the warrior wanted to die, no matter what they would tell him and what or whom he would leave behind.

They had a long talk with Erestor about what they should do now and what they should tell the people of Imladris. For, this was much harder than looking after Glorfindel.

At long last, they _had_ talked to the people and it still bothered both of them that they had to lie to their friends. Well, not exactly lie, but stretching the truth as far as possible by leaving out a few things.

They had hesitated to do it this way, but Erestor had assured them that it would be better then telling the cruel truth.

The people would be agitated enough with the news of Elrond's disappearance and Morchaintdur's return. To tell them right now that Elrond _was_ Morchaintdur would have been the final blow for the inhabitants.

The rumours had started the moment the twins had arrived with the wounded warrior. Then they had spread like a wildfire and by the moment the twins stepped out of the door to face the gathered elves the whole of Imladris hummed like a bee hive.

They both had waited in silent until the murmurs died down.

When all the faces had turned to them, Elladan had taken a deep breath and started to speak, while Elrohir stood by his side supporting his brother with his silent presence. Both had noticed the curiosity and sorrow in the other elves' eyes, yet they could still find hope in the depth of the orbs as well. Hope that all would be well and that all what they had heard were only rumours and not reality.

Elrohir had heard a few gasps when Elladan mentioned Morchaintdur.

/So there are still some elves here who know him. Maybe they would be helpful./

Elrohir had thought, making a mental note to contact them later.

When Elladan had reached the point in his speech he had feared most, telling the people of the abduction of Elrond, screams of rage and fear filled the air around them. Elladan had waited patiently until the elves had calmed down a little before he had continued.

He had told them that they would do anything to bring back their father and that Estel was on his way to Mirkwood in search for help.

This was six days ago.

Now, Elladan stood in front of the large windows of his father's study glancing out to the courtyard, hands clasped behind his back while subconsciously mirroring Elrond's posture, watching the life that took place as usual. The mood in Imladris was still dull and tense but life had to go on and the elves went about their daily work.

The sound of hoofs clattering on the pebbled ground drew his gaze towards the gates. It was a small party of elves who entered the courtyard, led by one of the most seasoned warriors of Imladris.

Elladan smiled when he noticed that. Glorfindel always made sure that only the best guard watched over his family when he could not travel with them. The small group dismounted and Elladan watched as one of the travellers reached up and shoved back the hood of the cloak that had covered her features.

Yáviëwen, Glorfindel's wife, looked up and for a short time their eyes met, before the lady nodded with a little, sad smile and turned her attention back to her children. Yet this short eye contact was enough to let Elladan know that she knew that something was wrong with Glorfindel. He should have known, for the bond between man and wife was very strong.

Elladan watched them from above. He had never expected that he would see the day when Glorfindel would have a family. None of them had, to be honest. But here he stood watching them as they walked towards the house.

Yáviëwen, the charming mirthful lady with the fiery red hair matching her temper.

Elladan smiled when he thought back to the day 41 years ago when he and his brothers had unknowingly been the matchmakers, and he still blushed when he remembered the day 2 years later when he and Elrohir had been at the receiving end of a prank that both Yáviëwen and Glorfindel had placed on them as a revenge for what they had done.

He shifted his gaze from Yáviëwen to Tindómë. The girl would reach maturity in nine years but he could clearly see the beauty that lay hidden beneath the still childish features, waiting to come out in a short time. One day, not so far in the future her parents would have a lot of trouble to hold all the suitors at bay.

Elladan thought back fondly of the many times meddlesome young men already had tried to be near her, only to be thwarted away by the combined forces of Yáviëwen's and Glorfindel's icy glares. Elladan could swear that he had heard Glorfindel muttering something about caponizing some of the men as a warning to the others.No one would touch her and survive, that was for sure.

Even Thranduil had received one glare last year, when he had shot the girl a calculating look, fully aware that Glorfindel would notice it. Thranduil was always in the mood to tease his old friend. The Woodland king knew that the girl was like a little sister to them all, but he could not resist the tease.

It had earned him a vicious kick under the table and a scowl from his son too. As for the twins and Estel, it was too much fun to tease Legolas, and so for weeks they had pestered the poor elf relentlessly with the question of when he would start to court her.

Elladan shifted his attention to the boy walking on the left side of Yáviëwen. Where Tindómë was a mixture of both of her parents, with the incredible green eyes and the blond hair with the red shimmer in it, Galadan was the mirror image of his father.

He was very tall for a boy of his age, only 36 years old, taller by a head than his mother and still growing. The boy had started his warrior training 6 years before and he showed a remarkable talent with the long double handed sword. Not much elves chose this weapon nowadays. The last time it was used in battle was in the Last Alliance, but Galadan wanted to use it and he used it very well. He had not only inherited the skills of his father but also the hot temper of his mother.

Sometimes it seemed that the boy could not control this temper but time would show how good he would handle it. Elladan was sure that the years would cool down the boy as they had cooled down himself and his brother long ago.

Both children had not decided yet, what profession they would choose one day. But Yáviëwen was sure that Tindómë would want to work in the library. Since the day her lessons had started, the girl spent more time in the library than any other elfling before her. Erestor was very pleased to have someone who would listen to all of his stories and would not run away bored to oblivion.

Maybe one day Tindómë would watch over the library of Imladris like Erestor did now. The elf was very pleased with the girl's interest in the books and scrolls and did everything to support and feed her curiosity.

Galadan probably would follow into his father's footsteps one day but that still was not clear. As much as Yáviëwen wished that one of her children would choose her own profession and become a black-smith, she would accept every other choice they would make.

Elladan watched the family until they reached the door and entered the house before he left his place at the window and went down to greet them in the hall. He still did not know how he should tell them what had happened, but one thing was for sure: they had to know the whole, ugly truth.

Tindómë was the first one who noticed him descending down from the stairs.

"Uncle Elladan!" she shouted out before she ran laughing across the hall, her brother, with the same happy expression on his face, on her heels. Both wrapped their arms around Elladan in a hug that threw him back a step before he could regain his footing.

"Welcome home little ones. Did you enjoy your time in Lorien?" He asked smiling. It was so good to hear someone laugh again. Over the children's' shoulders he watched Yáviëwen coming closer, while Galadan and Tindómë started simultaneously talking about their different activities during their time in the Golden Woods.

The words reached his ears but he could not grasp a single meaning. He would later talk to them and listen to their adventures

Elladan freed himself out of the hug of them both so that he would be able to breathe a bit better and bowed his head to great the lady who was now in front of him.

"Welcome home Yáviëwen, I hope you had a pleasant journey." He felt the children tense a little under his hands due to the formal greeting.

"Thank you Elladan. Yes, it was wonderful to see Lorien again, but it is good to be home again." Yáviëwen answered him. "Can you tell me where I can find Glorfindel? Usually he would greet us in the courtyard, but he was not there today."

Elladan dropped his gaze to the floor, no longer able to look into her eyes. He had seen in their depths that she knew something. Possibly, she had felt Glorfindel's injury the moment he had endured it.

"Elladan? What happened here? What happened to Glorfindel? I know that something is wrong with him." Her voice was calm as usual but she could not hide the tremor in it.

Elladan took a deep breath before he dared to lift his head. "Yáviëwen, would you please come with me. I have something to tell you, but this is not the place to do it."

"Uncle, what happened? Where is Ada?" Galadan's deep voice cut through the silence. The boy had wrapped a protecting arm around his sister's shoulder and held her close.

Tindóm's eyes were wide with fear; all the joy vanished and replaced with sorrow as she held on Galadan for dear life.

Yáviëwen walked up to her children and embraced them both. She would be strong for them, she had to be. She knew that Glorfindel was alive, for their bond was still intact and strong, and that was the only thing that mattered right now. Once they had heard what Elladan has to tell them she would deal with it.

She had known that something happened to her husband from the moment she had felt the immense pain in the middle of the night of the lunar eclipse one week ago, but she had held up her usual cheery façade for her children's sake. Now they would hear what had occurred that night.

She had noticed the dark shadows under Elladan's eyes the moment she had seen him in plain view, and his whole posture spoke of sleepless nights and something she could not grasp.

As much as she wished to run to her husband's side, she had to hear first what the reason was for all this tragedy. She knew that she would not be able to think properly after she was by Glorfindel's side in the healing chamber. For some reason, she just knew he was there.

She had sensed that something was wrong with Imladris, not only with Glorfindel, the moment they had entered the valley. The elves, the nature and even the buildings seemed to be darker and sombre. The whole atmosphere has changed drastically: it was as if the valley has lost a vital part of itself.

First she could not grasp what it was but now, in the confines of the last homely house facing a tired and desperate Elladan, it hit her.

"Elladan, where is your father? Where is Elrond?"

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Darkness and Pain.

Never ending darkness surrounded not only his body but also his soul. He was trapped in it.

And he did not know how he could get out of it. The only thing that told him that he was still alive was the constant pain, which had been his only companion over the last days. Or had it been weeks? Or even months?

He did not know how long he could continue to endure their cruelties. They had flogged him countless time since the day he had been brought to this place. Every time, they had tended to his wounds.

They had allowed him to build up his strength to a certain amount before they had beaten him again. They had broken his bones and now they gave them time to mend.

Before they could have their fun with him again?

He did not know.

He did not know how long he was now at this place and in their hands.

He had lost track of time long ago.

He did not know if it was day or night outside his prison. The cell had no windows, not even the tiniest gap in the dark walls to allow the light to enter this enclosed space.

The wounds he had received during his fight were nearly healed. Only the wound at the back of his head where they had cut out a piece of his skin the size of a palm needed some more time to mend.

How long?

How long could he endure their cruelties?

How much longer could he exist in this darkness, cut from the light of the sun and the stars, from life itself?

He slept when he was tired and ate when they brought him food and water.

The first days they had forced the food down his throat, for he had not been able to eat while the fever had raged through his body, leaving him helpless in their hands.

In his fevered dreams he sometimes had heard a strange voice singing old songs to him, songs he had not heard since his childhood. Somehow, even this strange raspy voice had calmed him into sleep, not troubled with nightmares but filled with pleasant thoughts of wide, green forests and plains.

He had not been able to hold anything down in his stomach, except of water and even _that _had been sometimes too much for his weak body. But every time he had thrown up what they had fed him, they had cleaned him and fed him again: Sometimes tea, often broth and now and then soft bread.

The blood loss and the infection had demanded their toll and he had not been able to fight the humiliating treatment. But one day the fever had broken and he had no longer felt the burning heat. Later, he had become aware of his surroundings for the first time.

A single torch illuminated the room, no the cell, he was in. He could not make out any openings in the wall no door, no windows, nothing. The only way to enter and leave the cell was through a trapdoor in the ceiling. He was lying on a pile of straw covered with blankets and furs of various animals, too weak to move more than his head and even that left him dizzy and sweating. Whenever he had heard the trapdoor creaking, he had closed his eyes and had pretended to be still unconscious.

But he had not been able to fool his capturers, not for a single moment at all. "Ah, look our little elf is awake. The master will be very pleased to hear that." The snarling voice had held an amused tone. A callused hand had touched his face and he had struggled not to flinch away from the touch while remaining motionless.

"I know that you are awake, so open your eyes before I have to force you to look at me," the voice continued.

He still refused to obey, but he had realized only moments later that this had been a mistake. A whiff had been the only warning he had, before the hand once again touched his face, but this time not as gentle as before. Now followed a forceful slap that nearly drove him back into oblivion.

His headache, which had dulled down to a dull pounding, had returned with a vengeance.

Still he had refused to open his eyes and he had waited for the next blow, but it never came. Instead he had heard the being, whatever it may be sniggering above him.

Moments later he had forced his reluctant eyelids to open, his vision blurred, and he could only make out faint outlines of the creature's face hovering above his own. After blinking a few times to clear his vision he had been finally able to see his captor more clearly. As he had expected it had been an orc, but something was different with this one.

"So, you finally decided to grace us with your attention. That is good. It seems that we do not have to wait much longer until we can have our fun with you." The cruel laughter had made his headache worse than before, but what disturbed him more, was that he had been able to understand the creature even if he did not use the common Westron, which they sometimes used to speak.

So why did he understand the black speech? His sluggish mind had needed some time to work through that riddle before it hit him. This orc did not use the black speech. This orc used his own language, an ancient form of it but it was undoubtedly Quenya.

What did it mean?

Usually the dark creatures abhorred everything elvish, but here stood one, speaking a fluent Quenya which nobody had used during the last ages.

"What is it elf?" The orc had spoken up again. "Did I surprise you? Don't worry, you will know all about it in time. But now let me see how you fare. The others want to have their fun with you, but the master has ordered that he will not allow it until you have gathered enough strength to survive it. And believe me, you will survive." He had not known what this talk about a master could mean and how this master would be able to force his fëa to stay in his body when he did not want to.

"It is my decision to fade or not." He had mustered all his strength to speak out this few words sternly.

"Oh, our master has told us that you are stubborn and now I see that he is right." With a lighting fast movement the orc grabbed his chin, claws digging into his skin while he sneered in his face.

"Try and you will see what will happen!"

That had been the first time that he had noticed how tall this orc was; nearly as tall as Glorfindel or Erestor. The orcs he knew only reached up to his chest, but this one would be more than half a head taller than himself, should they stand side by side.

One more riddle to torture his muddled mind with.

The orc had released his hold on him and had tended to the numerous cuts and bruises all over his body as well as the large wound on his head, with more gentleness than he had expected after those harsh words.

Shortly after that he had been alone again in the dark, drifting in and out of the much needed healing sleep. Thinking about the strange events and beings. None of his captors had touched him with the intension to hurt him, not a single one. All they had done for the next days was caring for his heath and well being.

It had wrecked his brain, trying to figure out why they should do that and when they would kill him in the near future. No matter what this strange orc told him, he was sure that he would die in this dark place.

One day they had decided that he was well enough and had forced him to climb up the ladder and out of a door and when he had seen the bunch of orcs which had awaited him outside he had known that they would have their fun with him now.

He had not known what they had expected but definitely not that he would attack them the moment his feet touched the ground. Yet he had no hesitated to do so.

Two orcs had grabbed him under the armpits the moment his shoulders had appeared in the opening to haul him out of the cell. The hold they had on him had not been so tight, so he had been able to move his arms. He had caught them by surprise when he had lifted his arms to grab both at their upper arms and had pulled with all his might.

Their heads had clashed together and both had released him and had tumbled against each other before they had fallen to the ground. He had not waited to see the result of his attack, the moment he had felt their grip lessened he had whirled around and had jumped over to the trap door to grab it and slam it down, where it made solid contact with the head of the creature which had climbed up the ladder after him.

Using their confusion for his advantage, he had tackled two other orcs to the ground grabbing one of the scimitars at one's belt. The feeling of the hilt in his hand, as unfamiliar the weight had been, had given him some confidence and strength, finally he had had a weapon again to defeat himself.

He had tightened the grip and had attacked more ferocious than before. He had stabbed one of the orcs through the chest, ripped the blade free dodged a blow from the right while he drew the scimitar through another orc who had crept up from behind, before he had whirled around to behead the one who had attacked from the right.

He had known that he could not fight for much longer, he still had been not completely healed and his strength was more ore less gone. So he had tried his best to make a sally and break through the surrounding crowd slashing and stabbing as best as he had been able. Using every thing he had as a weapon, his legs, and his elbows. More than one nose had been broken under the force of his blows, and he had been sure that he had killed some of them by driving their facial bones up into their brains, to break free.

Finally he had managed to open up a gap in the wall of bodies surrounding him. Seeing his only chance to escape he had urged one last blow against the head of one orc that had come in reach of his scimitar, before he had forced his tired legs to run.

He had only managed a few steps when something had hit him in the back. The force of the arrow had sent him to his knees, but he still had refused to give up. He had stumbled back on his feet only to be sent back down again from a kick into the hollow of his knees. They had watched his struggling attempts to stand up, only to kick him back to the ground the moment he had regained his balance.

They had toyed with him until their patience had grown too thin and then they had started to beat and kick him merciless. He had lain on the ground curled up to protect his ribs and stomach not making a single sound.

He had endured everything without screaming until the time a rough hand had gripped the shaft of the arrow which had been still embedded in his upper back, twisting it inside the wound before ripping it out without caring if the barbs would leave a gaping hole in his back.

That pain had been too much and he had screamed until one blow against his head had sent him into peaceful oblivion. When he had returned to awareness, he had been back in his cell, his wounds tended and bound.

Since that day, they always had allowed him to heal before they had dragged him to another room to have their fun with him. Last time they had broken his fingers one by one. But when had that been? Two days ago? Three? Or even more? Ha did not know.

Now he looked down to his splinted digits and wondered if he would be ever able to handle a bow or a knife again. It looked like they were broken over four days ago. He tried to move one finger and was rewarded with a sharp pain that shot up over his arm to his shoulder.

He bit back a scream he would not show them any weakness.

No more.

He had no clue what these strange orcs and their ominous master had in mind for him and right now he did not care. The only thing he wanted was to get out of this Valar forsaken place, wherever this may be.

He wanted to see the sun and the stars.

He wanted to breathe the fresh air and not this stinking foul air inside this cell and fortress.

He wanted to see his family and friends, not those foul creatures.

He would get out of here: He only needed some kind of plan to escape and he would spend every single moment to think about one.

That he swore to himself before he allowed his body to succumb to the tiredness and his thoughts slipped into a deep healing slumber.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Aragorn sat beside the small campfire and tried in vain to warm up his hands.

Winter had finally caught up with them and it became colder every passing moment.

For four days they had walked through snow and mud, leading the horses over the slippery treacherous surface.

All that time, they had followed the path that would lead them out of Mirkwood and into the grey mountains, with still no sign of their missing friend besides the obvious signs of the battle that had taken place 2 weeks ago.

From that place on they had to search for tracks and found them.

Aragorn looked up from the dancing flames and watched his companions when a silent song reached his ear.

It was a small party, with only four elves that accompanied him. He would have rather left the palace alone but Thranduil had been adamant. He would leave Mirkwood either with some elves or he would not leave at all.

Aragorn remembered the day now nearly two weeks ago, when he had arrived at the palace. He shivered with the memories of what he had seen and heard on this first day.

When the first pain had faded to a dull ache he had been finally able to gather his whit again.

He had talked long with Thranduil.

He had tried everything to make it clear that he did not believe his friend was dead.

He had used all his strength and willpower to talk some sense into the mourning king.

He had it at last achieved with one single question. In hindsight he could have slapped himself for not coming up with that one earlier.

He had asked Thranduil if he could still feel his son.

The king had held the rangers gaze for what seemed like an eternity. Involuntarily Aragorn shivered when he thought of the emptiness in the Elf's eyes, before he had hesitantly closed his eyes and reached out deep into his heart and soul with all his sense, searching for the tiniest evidence that he was wrong.

First Thranduil could find nothing, but when he had turned away from the broken bond he suddenly could sense something. It was not much; only a tiny sparkle of what he would usually feel, but for the king it had been the brightest beacon breaking through the surrounding darkness, just like the sun would brake through the dark clouds of a passing thunderstorm.

Aragorn had watched the king closely, for he had noticed every motion that had scampered over the pale face. First a frown appeared, an expression that deepened with concentration.

After a few moments the concentration had faltered when helplessness and despair had returned. But only a blink of an eye later, all these emotions had been replaced by a smile that grew brighter every moment. When Thranduil had opened his eyes moments later he had been greeted by the widest grin he had ever seen on the ranger's face.

"I can feel him!"

That had been all what Thranduil had said, but nothing more had been necessary.

Hope had returned to the Woodland king.

And that was why Aragorn sat now on the edge of Mirkwood forest, beside a small campfire.

Hope to find his friend.

Hope that he could bring back him alive.

He had not dared to tell Thranduil what had happened in Imladris. Even now, he still did not know why he had done so. They had talked about Morchaintdur and how he could be defeated but those talks had brought nothing more to the light of day but the things he already knew from his father's letter.

Thranduil had promised to look through the old journals and reports of Oropher while Aragorn would go and search for Legolas. It had been a hard effort to persuade Thranduil that he should stay in Mirkwood, but Aragorn had managed to do so.

First, Thranduil had not listened to Aragorn's arguments, for the king had been eager to ride out and search for his son and rip out the heart of the one who had dared to kidnap and injure his precious child, with bare hands.

What first had been grief later turned into burning rage and hatred.

Thranduil would not allow this cruel being to live any longer than the moment he would have it in reach of his blade. Maybe that was why Aragorn did not tell the king the truth. The ranger wanted his father back. He did not want to retrieve him to become an unwilling witness of how Thranduil would kill him.

The searing cold shook Aragorn out of his memories and he returned to the present where Mîron had already taken care of the horses. Now they stood huddled together to share their body warmth and munched on the crops that they had brought with them.

Londdil had volunteered to take the first watch and he had already disappeared in the trees. The silent elf was always the first to take guard and when he would return he would have another poem to share with them, singing softly some of the old songs until it was time to go to sleep.

The smell of food tickled Aragorn's nose and his grumbling stomach reminded him that he had not eaten since the morning. From the smell of it, it looked like Baldôr had again shown his remarkable talent with pans and field rations.

The ranger had never before met someone like Baldôr, who could make a delicious meal out of dried fruits, meat and some Lembas. Even the hobbits would be glad to have some of his receipts but Aragorn doubted that there where receipts at all. During their journey he had thought sometimes that he would love to take this elf back to Imladris, so that he would not longer have to endure Elladan's cooking during their trips.

Silent steps behind him reminded Aragorn of the last of their group: Randur. He was one of Thranduil's most trusted warriors and he had, like the others, volunteered to accompany Aragorn on this trip. Still Aragorn did not know what to think about him, for he was a silent companion. They had not talked more then a few words during their trip but Aragorn had found out the Randur had a sharp mind and his tracking skills were unmatched. Even Aragorn had been flabbergasted in which places the elf had been able to find tracks which would them lead on.

Now Randur approached the ranger and sat down beside him. After some moments of silence where they watched Baldôr stirring in the pan and adding some of his herbs, Randur spoke up for the first time this day.

"Aragorn, I followed the tracks some further on, but they do not lead to the grey mountains." Randur paused, not sure how he could tell the ranger that their search had been in vain and that they had no chance to bring Legolas back.

With a deep breath he straightened his back and looked into the ranger's eyes.

"They make a turn before they reach the mountains. They turned north-west, straight to Mount Gundabad. But I'm sure that their final destination is .... Angmar."

Aragorn started to shiver again, but this time not from the cold that surrounded them but from the cold that he felt inside.

From all of the places of Middle Earth it has to be Angmar.

TBC


End file.
